Day Of Terror
by Brooklynnx
Summary: The Sinister Six think they have the perfect plan to deystroy SpiderMan. They call it their Day of Terror and attack the locations of SpiderMan's greatest failures and attempt to murder him. The novel by AdamTroy Castro
1. The Pay Phone

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the featured Marvel Characters or the book by Adam-Troy Castro. I understand that this is pretty much a knockoff of the book, but I loved it so much that I wanted to write it. I tried to put my own little twists and make it a version of my own. I do not own anything, and this fanfic is not even based on, but pretty much IS the book. I am not claiming it as my own or as my own idea. I apologize, as I recieved a review calling it 'plagarism'. I would never intentionally do such a thing, and I write for my own enjoyment and I enjoyed the book. I am sorry for the mix-up, I did not even realize that it may have been plagarism. I am just a person who likes to write about Spider-Man. I've loved the novel and I wanted to write it out sorta-kinda in my own way, figuring fanfiction would be the place to do it._

* * *

The _Daily Bugle _building stood not necessarily tall in the concrete canyons of New York City, but it was most certainly stood out. The flickering neon letters running down its rooftop spelt BUGLE, though the "L" was going in and out of lumination, so at times the sign seemed to read "BUG-E".

_Bug-e._ That was ironic to many, of course, due to the masked man that stalked the front pages of the notorious newspaper. And through all the slander and all the false reports bestowed upon him, the same masked man sat now on a rooftop which gave him a perfect view of Mr. J. Jonah Jameson's office. Jameson was the publisher, editor-in-chief, and Spidey-hater of the_ Daily Bugle_. Recognizable by his mustache, dark flattop haircut and the cigar that always seemed to hang loosely from the left side of his mouth, Jameson always put his paper first. And his malign towards Spider-Man both ruined his paper and made it stronger; it just depended who read the articles featuring the red-and-blue tight wearing vigilante and what they chose to believe. More than half the city chose to believe that Jameson had the bug-man all figured out, making life for the hero more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And as Spider-Man watched Jameson puff on a fresh cigar, yelling at Billy Walters--another freelance photographer--for something that Walters probably had no control over. Spider-Man shook his head. That was JJ, all right. The hot-headed boss, didn't care what went wrong as long as he could point a finger at somebody.

The building was as relentless as the paper itself--multiple attacks had been made on the offices. Ah, the building itself was like a home away from home. The Goodman Building on 39th Street and Second Avenue--now called the _Daily Bugle_ Building, is an office complex forty-six stories tall, and is capped by the _Daily Bugle_ logo in neon-red 30-foot letters on its roof.

Spider-Man wondered why Jameson kept up with it. It wasn't a secret that the _Bugle_ was one of the least respected newspapers in the city. And he also wondered why he himself worked there as his alias Peter Parker. Peter was famous for his quality shots of Spider-Man, and the freelance photographer never gave up his secrets.

But as he faced the building today with the latest copy of the _Daily Bugle_ in his hand, he couldn't help but give a weak sigh. The headline read: _"Spider-Man Assists In Bank Heist" _and underneath the front-page picture showing the events that took place read, in small, small print: _"Photo By Peter Parker". _He hadn't done a thing except to try and stop the robbers, of course. But the paper was so one-sided that if he made one flawless mistake, such as 'allowing' one of the culprits to escape with some of the stolen money, then everything was thrown right back in his face. In the article, Jameson insists that Spider-Man and the escaped thief had made a deal beforehand that he would run off, they would meet back later and split the goods. Sad thing is, many probably believe this crap.

Spider-Man looked at the photo that showed Spider-Man beating the tar out of two of the three men while the other one slipped out the front door. The caption explained Jameson's point of view. "I feel like I am totally screwing myself." Spider-Man said to himself, looking at the photograph he had taken that had been used to completely ruin his reputation. He threw the paper off the roof and continued sulking. He had been sulking a lot lately, because the_ Bugle _had been picking on him a lot more than usual. Jameson must have been on one of his I-Am-Finally-Going-To-Show-The-World-Exactly-How-Spider-Man-Is modes.He got those a lot, just like Spider-Man got his famous caffeine highs from drinking too much coffee (Troy Saberstein, of the counterterrorism and intelligence agency SAFE, actually had told Spider-Man once that his file even said he was a caffeine fiend extraordinaire. SAFE's Director Colonel Sean Morgan had read the file and, almost instantly afterwards, refused Spider-Man's requests for coffee every time he visited the Helicarrier base).

Spider-Man had been meaning to check up on SAFE's latest actions, now that he thought of it. He always liked to see what the agency was up to in case he could assist, even though the agency saw him as an 'untrusted vigilante', as Colonel Morgan had once said to his face. That was all okay by him--Spider-Man was not used to receiving respect. Although the _Bugle_ had helped this cause, Spider-Man noticed that his own actions could bring some blame about. He damaged public property on almost a weekly basis, considering all the bad guys he had to fight. He often intervened in situations where the NYPD clearly had it handed, and the officers often resented him for that. And also for the countless deaths that Spider-Man had been unable to prevent, and even the ones that happened while he was on the scene. Spider-Man could go either way, as far as the public eye could see. _That's why only half of the city hates me_, he thought. _That half needed glasses._

Many times Spider-Man wanted to confront Jameson. He wished he could right now: he imagined himself crashing through his office window, Jameson spewing with rage. He saw himself pick Jameson up by his shirt's front collar and raise him into the air. He saw himself shout harsh, angry words telling him to just cut the crap. He also saw him punch the publisher in the jaw. But the vision quickly faded, and with it Spider-Man's will to go in there and give Jameson a piece of his mind. He just couldn't do things like that. Then what the_ Bugle_ had been saying about him all these years would be right._  
_

Spider-Man had had just about enough of sitting in his own misery and stood, deciding that a little tour of midtown wouldn't hurt--and it could keep him busy, since he was bored stiff at the moment. There had been no sightings of supervillains, robberies, even muggings for more than a week. What was a superhero supposed to do, then, besides show off his powers to the public (and, frankly, hearing a couple of people saying 'ooh' and 'aah' as he soared above their heads did make him feel better).

But Spider-Man had learned to appreciate slow days like these, because when the time came for all hell to brake loose, all he would wish is for a day just like today--when nothing was happening, there was no one in danger, and no one trying to kill him. And this was New York City--it never stayed too quiet for too long. The crime-free city seemed to be lurking with the evil plot of some self-proclaimed criminal mastermind, who had yet to unveil his scheme to take over. Spider-Man wasn't looking forward to when the bad guys decided to show up, but he didn't want to be stuck inside watching reruns of Seinfeld either.

Maybe he'd check up on Fury in the SAFE. Helicarrier. Yeah, that'd give him something to do. He'd just head on over to that special pay phone he always used, on the corner of Broadway, and dial up Sean Morgan to catch a ride to the Helicarrier. He wasn't looking foward to seeing the reactions of the agents on board, but again, he was Spider-Man, not Captain America. Respect was almost like a foreign language to him, as he'd been called various things by various people, and words of respect not being one them.

Yeah. He just might head over to the Helicarrier. She what was going on in his city. He headed down towards Broadway, swinging the route he normally took while on patrol. He moved so fast that only the unblinking pedestrians could see the fading red-and-blue blur pass by, some shaking their head as if they were delusional, others squinting to see exactly what the heck that thing was.

Spider-Man saw the phone booth as he came closer, and he saw that it was occupied. _Oh, super,_ he thought. He hated standing on the sidewalks for too long. Even being used to all the attention, he felt so uncomfortable waiting around. The last time he spent more than three minutes on the sidewalk was while waiting in line to buy a hot dog. Hey, he was hungry. Even super heroes gotta eat.

He landed behind the booth and ignored the stares from those around him, though he felt them as if they pounded into his skin. He walked over to the glass door and knocked on it. The man, his back turned to the hero waiting outside, waved the back of his hand as a motion to leave him alone. After the second knock the man spun around, saw Spider-Man standing there, and allowed his mouth to drop open. He opened up the glass door, at a loss for words.

"Hey pal, can I use the phone for a sec? It's pretty important."

"Uh...honey?" the man said into the phone. "I gotta go. Spider-Man needs to use the phone."

"And, while your at it, can ya spare some change? Sorry, I left my wallet in my other costume." Spider-Man asked. The man hung up the phone, dug deep into his pockets, and dropped a few coins into Spider-Man's open hand. "Thanks, pal. Tell your 'honey' I said sorry for cutting into your conversation."

"D-don't worry about that, S-Spider-Man." he said, exiting the booth and allowing Spider-Man to make whatever call he had to make from a public pay phone. Spider-Man closed the door, deposited the money, dialed the number, and waited for someone on the other line to answer.

On the third ring a young woman's voice said: "SAFE Helicarrier."

"Yeah, I was wondering if I could get a lift to the midnight meeting that Morgan's holding tonight?"

"Who's calling, sir?" the woman asked.

"Oh, sorry. Spider-Man."

"One moment, Mr. Man." She said. Spider-Man laughed. Even in the field that they worked in, nowadays even superhumans were exposed to the melodies of Hold music. He had never been put on Hold before, and enjoyed the tune until it was abruptly cut short by a man's harsh voice.

"Morgan here."

"Colonel, how's my bestest friend in the whole wide world?"

"Spider-Man. Of course. What do you want?"

"I was wondering if I could get a lift to the Helicarrier." he replied. He couldn't pinpoint the Colonel's reaction, being the cause of the silence. Sean Morgan cleared his throat and said: "You couldn't just go to the Times Square office and request transport like everyone else?"

"I didn't feel like it."

"Fine. I'll send an aircar to meet you at the Brooklyn Bridge an hour earlier."

"See ya there, Cuddles. Save me a seat next to you, okay?" he joked.

Colonel Morgan, who never really appreciated the Webslinger's humor, just hung up. Spider-Man just put the phone back into the receiver, exited the booth, and was greeted by a mob of bystanders. Had they been watching the entire time?

"What? A guy can't use a pay phone anymore? Jeez!" Spider-Man said as he spun a webline and was ricochetted into the mass of skyscrapers that created his zig-zag path down to the Brooklyn Bridge, where he would hitch a ride on one of SAFE's fancy-fants flying aircars. He was looking forward to the Helicarrier for one reason, and one reason only: They would most definitely have coffee.


	2. The Helicarrier

The Brooklyn Bridge stood tall in the skyline of New York City, now covered in a light snow as the threatening clouds overhead allowed the beginning of the inevitable storm that always seemed to claim the north. The Brooklyn Bridge was one of the oldest suspension bridges in the United States, stretching nearly six thousand feet over the East River--the river that the SAFE Helicarrier just happened to hover over twenty-four/seven, unless there was need to change position. After all, SAFE was an international organization. Who knew what went on in the rest of the world?

The Brooklyn Bridge, the place where Colonel Sean Morgan had insisted on allowing an aircar to pick Spider-Man up, was also the site of his biggest heartache: Gwen Stacy.

As Spider-Man remembered his first true love, he could picture her lushing blonde hair, her glowing eyes, her perfect smile. He had loved Gwen Stacy like he had loved no other woman before, and the night that she was pronounced dead haunted him more than anything. He saw himself try to save her, trying to catch her with a webline as she tumbled from the top of the bridge. He remembered the satisfaction, the relief, of knowing that it had caught her. He saw himself reeling her in, as her captor, the Green Goblin, soared on his glider. He saw her face, and he remembered his heart broke. He could still feel her cold corpse as he cradled her close, rocking her back and forth with tears running from his eyes as he repeatedly told Gwen that she could not be dead. But she was, and she was gone.

He sat on top of the very pillar of the bridge that she had fallen from, ignoring the cold and staring down at the rushing water where she had fallen, when a flying aircar belonging to SAFE descended from the sky above. Special Agent Dough Deely, a tall, bold black man, was the pilot, and Spider-Man's chosen escort. He, of course, recognized the events that had taken place at the Brooklyn Bridge, and considered apologizing when Spider-Man jumped inside the hovering car. The car's shield kept the temperature inside relatively warm, and Spider-Man enjoyed the break from the freezing cold the latest snow storm had decided to bring.

"Hiya, Deels. Long time no see." Spider-Man said, dusting himself of the thin white coting the snow had created while falling on his costume. Spider-Man didn't turn around until a second later, when he saw that the agent was saluting him. Spider-Man was not used to receiving respect, and was taken back by this gesture. At a temporary loss of what do to, he snapped a salute back.

"Nice going, Webhead. But I'm afraid it doesn't really work, not coming from you. Not in that outfit."

Spider-Man was amazed that people like Doug Deely who wore a skin tight blue battle suits to work everyday found his costume looked funny. Embarrassed, he said: "Sorry. I guess I'm not really used to gestures like that."

"On the record," Deely said, leading him down another narrow passageway, "you're not supposed to get any. You're an unknown rouge, not to be trusted—or so says the government."

Instantly he thought of the last ten times he'd saved the world. _No, forget the world. How about just the city? _"Oh good. I was starting to think someone up there likes me." He said with practiced sarcasm.

"Keep in mind that this is the same government that worries about what the headlines will be the next morning, and you're not exactly beloved by the press." This being a reference to J. Jonah Jameson of the _Daily Bugle,_ who had blamed Spider-Man for everything from street crime to global warming. "However," Deely continued. "Off the record, there are plenty of guys who remember how many times you've laid yourself out on the line for us. Here, at least, you're considered one of the good guys."

"I'm touched." Spider-Man said, meaning it, since he still wasn't used to being appreciated.

They turned down another narrow passageway and passed a team of agents escorting a seven-foot chained…something…that narrowed its eyes at Spider-Man and wondered how he'd taste. Deely showed no signs of wanting to explain the origin of this thing, and Spider-Man knew far too well it would be long and complicated, so he'd didn't bother asking. The agents escorting it nodded at Deely and Spider-Man, so casual in their reaction to their super-powered visitor that Spider-Man wondered if there were codes against making a double-take.

Deely came to an office. He knocked on the open door and said, "Colonel, I just brought your latest from the shuttle from the bridge. You have time for him?"

Colonel Morgan looked up from his mess of papers scattered on his big desk and nodded. "I can give him twenty minutes. Hello, Spider-Man."

"Colonel." Spider-Man greeted, jumping onto a wall and crouching mid-way. Deely smiled again at Spider-Man and shut the door. Spider-Man, who was not used to dealing with authority types, said, "See they're keeping you busy."

Morgan held a paper in his hand. "No more than usual. Have a chair." He told him, motioning at the black chair that sat before his desk.

Spider-Man, who was perfectly comfortable crouching on the wall, said, "No thanks, that's okay."

"No, it's not. It's just me and you, and there's no reason you're clinging to the wall, showing off for no reason."

Spider-Man replied: "I'm not showing off Colonel, honest. I'm just more comfortable this way."

"All right. As long as you're not making anymore damned jokes this time."

Spider-Man cocked his head. "After the way you've reacted in the past, I wouldn't dare."

Morgan seemed to appreciate that. His straight-lined mouth almost seemed to come a few millimeters of smiling. Almost. Colonel Sean Morgan was not a colorful, easy-going, likeable fellow, and he didn't try to be any of the three. He was strictly a professional, who never allowed anything—even the slightest ounce of humor—to come between him and his duty.

Morgan nodded and said: "Actually, I should give you credit on the fast response time. I didn't even expect you to hear the news until later."

"What news?"

"The breakouts?"

"What breakouts?"

Morgan rubbed his forehead. "You're beginning to give me a headache, Spider-Man. You're saying you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"I thought you got my message."

Spider-Man shrugged. "I would say what message if I didn't think you'd belt me."

Morgan's straight lined mouth was in danger of curving downwards. "Let's get on the same page here. A few hours ago I made contacting you a priority. Failing that, I thought the breakouts would prompt you to come seek me out. Do you honestly mean that your visit is just a coincidence?"

Spider-Man shrugged again. "I'm afraid so, Colonel. I wanted to see you anyway. What's up?"

"He doesn't know," the Colonel told the wall. "He doesn't know." Grimacing, he said, "All right, Spider-Man. I'm glad you came anyway. We have a situation on our hands, and I don't doubt that you'll be in the middle of it."

"I always am." Spider-Man said, coming very close to a smart remark. The Colonel did not do smart remarks.

"Okay," Morgan sighed. "Let's start with the basics..."


	3. Down To Basics

Colonel Sean Morgan took the pile of papers on his desk and moved them to an empty basket on the left, revealing a keyboard with four buttons. He pressed one, and the wall behind him transformed into a bank of several square television screen. Spider-Man whistled. "I gotta get me one of those."

"Enough. I still can't believe you haven't heard this already, so we need to catch you up, and quickly." Morgan pulled out a remote and clicked a button, changing a screen behind him the image on the screen flashed to show Spider-Man fighting a man in a green clad suit, wearing a purple cape and a helmet that greatly resembled a goldfish bowl. "Let's start with the stuff you know. You spent most of last week fighting Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, several times in various spots of the city. He was running around for a few days before you and some talking yellow duck finally brought him down. Correct?"

Spider-Man nodded.

"Point two: While your situation with Mysterio was heating up, the feds got finger prints that most likely belong to Adrian Toomes, aka the Vulture." one of the television screens changed to show a picture of an elderly man in a green flight suit. The suit's armor made almost anything impossible to penetrate it, and at the end of the two winds were razor-sharp tips that could sear flesh from bone.

"Next, a man disguised as a federal guard walked out with Max Dillion, aka Electro, a couple days ago." A flicked an image Electro, the human dynamo, appeared on the other screen. He wore a yellow starfish mask that matched the lightning bolts darting down his green jumpsuit. He was by far one of Spider-Man's most powerful enemies, as he was no longer just an idiot--though he still _was _an idiot--but also a force of nature. "They left a double-digit body count behind them."

"Electro's doing. He's always been a murderous thug." Spider-Man added.

"Since most bodies were fried to a crisp, I agree. The ones that were not fired were shot by the man disguised as the guard--the Chameleon. But he wasn't done with just Electro. He forged a signature from the President and walked out with Doctor Otto Octavius." the screen flashed a picture of the not-so-good Doctor, along with his four indestructible adamantium tentacles. He was better known as Doctor Octopus, using his tentacles for his strength, since the pudgy man was really quite frail. His haircut reminded Spider-Man of Moe's from The Three Stooges.

"This is bad, Colonel. Really bad." Spider-Man said.

"This is beyond bad. The Doctor's plans have gotten so nasty lately that they put millions of people in danger. The others, as dangerous as they are, are still police matters. Octavius' breakout is what got us involved. I trust I don't need to explain to you where this is going."

Spider-Man ticked the off with his fingers. "Doc Ock, Vulture, Electro, Chameleon. That's two-thirds of the Sinister Six right there!"

"It's worse than that. Quentin Beck managed to escape custody only a few days after you put him away. We're still unsure how it worked out, but we're almost certain the Chameleon was involved with his break out as well."

Unable to take anymore, Spider-Man leaped from the wall and landed hard on the ground. "Damn it, Colonel! I busted my ass for a whole week trying to catch that guy! Now you tell me it was all for nothing!" Without realizing it, Spider-Man took a seat in this chair. He wanted to bolt out of Morgan's office and spend the rest of the night hunting these men down. He resisted the urge with a sigh. "Man. Sometimes this line of work is so...frustrating."

Morgan nodded. "We've been trying to figure out who could fill the sixth slot to finish off the team.

"It can't be the Hobgoblin--one's dead, the other on some private island." Spider-Man counted off.

"We've eliminated Sandman--"

"Couldn't be him anyway he's reformed."

Morgan nodded. "It was just a precaution, Spider-Man."

Spider-Man tapped his finger on his chin. "Guessing is a waste of time. It could be anyone--Hydro-Man, Rhino, Sabertooth, and I don't even wanna consider the Juggernaut."

Morgan grimaced. "I didn't even think of him. Thanks for giving me something new to worry about."

"My bad," Spider-Man said. "But he's unlikely anyway. Not a team player, old Jugger-Head."

"He's more likely to go after the X-Men or the Hulk, too. But we've still made a list of possible recruits for the Six. It's a depressingly high number."

"Would be a smaller one if the authorities found a way to keep 'em locked up once I dropped 'em off."

Morgan ignored the comment. "It could be someone we haven't even seen before."

"Yippie." Spider-Man said.

"In any event, we'll need you to keep in contact. We won't ask you to carry a beeper, since you wouldn't anyway, but check in at least three times a day to see what the situation is."

"No problem."

"Remember, we want to help here as much as possible when the crisis does come."

"Again, no problem."

Morgan stood and shook his hand. "I have to give you credit, Spider-Man. I never would have thought you were capable of being a team player."

"Yeah, well, one of your guys saluted me. Must've gone to my head."

Morgan came dangerously close to smiling. Probably because it was military humor, go figure. Spider-Man gave a quick wave and then went to find Deely, who would give him a ride back down a few thousand feet to the ground in his aircar. Spider-Man's stomach lurched at what the Colonel had just told him. The Sinister Six, back in action. That was great news. Who could the sixth member be, anyway? Jack O' Lantern was unlikely. Shocker was, too. Lizard...no, Connors was finally getting his scaly side under control. Kraven, though he was in one of the original team-ups that had come to be the Sinister Six, was probably hunting something in some country. And Scorpion was locked up, after trying to kill J. Jonah Jameson for the umpteenth time. Spider-Man sighed as he forgot one very important thing. He didn't get his coffee.


	4. Revealed

**Washington Heights, New York City**

**  
**The apartment was not an apartment, but an over-sized condo for the five men living inside. It was very spacious and held the necessities plus more. They had rented out the two town houses on either side and the one directly across the street, to ensure their privacy. And, with a little more work, the five men may not actually kill each other.

On the couch was the mastermind behind this entire plan, Doctor Otto Octavius. He sat on the couch, watched some stupid reality show, mentally told himself to kill the show's host, and drank a bottle of purified water with a hint of lemon. His four indestructible metal arms moved about as if they had minds of their own, which the Doctor ensured that they did.

Sitting beside him on the couch was an elderly man way past retirement, Adrian Toomes. He did not wear his green armored flight suit, but a pair of sweatpants and a NYU hooded sweatshirt. The bald man, who was very uncomfortable with the metal arms slithering in the air above him, merely grunted as he changed the channel on the television yet again.

Electro, wearing his infamous costume, was keeping himself busy by bouncing sparks from his fingertips, trying to keep it in the air. He was the youngest in the group of criminal masterminds, he was probably the most dimwitted and simple-minded. He often took a lot of crap from a lot of people about his IQ, especially from the Wallcrawler. He growled and clenched his fist, stopping the electricity from flowing. The thought of finally killing that costumed creep brought a crooked smile to his face.

Then from the stairs descended the President of the United States, cupping his hand in a small wave as he joined the others downstairs. Toomes grunted. "It wasn't funny the first time, Smerdyakov."

The Chameleon, alias Anatoly Smerdyakov, hustled to the kitchen, returning as Tom Hanks drinking a Coke three minutes later. Electro stood, stretched, and said: "Where the hell is Beck? He's taking is sweet time!"

"Beck should be arriving shortly." Octavius said, without taking his eyes off the television. He, too, was growing impatient. Quentin Beck had simple instructions to follow, and they should not have taken him this long. His mission was to find the desired supervillian and offer him membership into the newly formed Sinister Six. Well, they had no news from Beck, and they did not like to be kept waiting.

That's when Mysterio arrived. His special effects created a dramatic entrance as he seemingly walked on the pillar of smoke. He looked formidable as his purple cape blew in the artificial breeze, and his fishbowl helmet hid any expression on the man's face. Mysterio had entered the apartment through the secret passageway that connected the basement to the subway. The construction workers who had not been trusted with this information had all been killed, and they now lay in unmarked graves.

Mysterio's voice mumbled: "It stinks down there in that subway! The workers couldn't add air fresheners?"

"Enough, Beck. We have been waiting. What is the news?" A pale-looking Tom Cruise said, sipping his Coke.

Mysterio cackled. "Our new partner has agreed to our terms, and is willing to accept membership into the Sinster Six. Yes, Octavius, I already told him that you are the brains of the operation." he added, seeing the Doctor's face.

Octavius nodded. "Good. Where is he now?"

"He is getting a few things. I showed him the entrance to the basement, he says he will come when ready."

"You did not tell him everything, did you?" Toomes asked.

"Of course not. I am no fool! You are not the only one who sees this guy as a rouge. I still don't understand why you wanted him, Octavius, out of any possible choice of supervillains."

"Because, as you said. He is a rouge. Unpredictable." the Doctor answered. "Which is exactly what will give us an advantage over Spider-Man this time. He must be willing to cooperate, take orders. He understands that much, I assume?"

Beck nodded. "He told me to tell you that he'll work with us. But he also wanted you to know that he doesn't trust us all that much either. He said he could take off any second. And, as you instructed me, Octavius, I told him that was all very fine. Though I think not!"

Octavius merely chuckled. "Don't you see, Beck? If he does decide to go on his own, it will throw the Webslinger and any other authorities completely off balance. They'll think any sighting of him is another possible attack by the Six! And, while they're busy with him, we will take our own course of action."

Electro raised an eyebrow. "From the sounds of things, Doc, you _want _this guy to betray us."

Octavius granted himself to an evil smile. The kind only an evil genius wore. "I am not counting on it, Max. I am only...considering our options if he does decided to leave the team, which, if I know him well, is likely. But I am also hoping that he decides the Sinister Six is where he belongs. If he leaves while we are in the middle of our plan, then it can not be helped."

"What about his relationship with Spider-Man. We know about the alien suit, we know they've teamed up on occasion." Toomes barked.

Octavius failed to respond to this. He knew that none of his partners agreed with his choice as the sixth member, and he also knew that they were doubting him. But the Doctor had his ways of knowing things others didn't, and from his point of view, everything would work out one way or another. "Do not trouble yourselves over this, my partners. Beck, did he say he'd be in by tonight? Tomorrow? We run on a very tight schedule."

Mysterio took off his helmet, sucking in the fresh air and sat next to a spitting image of himself, who had just finished the Coke bottle he had been holding. The Chameleon's idea of a slight joke. The real Beck nodded. "He actually should be here in ten minutes."

Octavius nodded, then was distracted as someone came up the basement stairs. A heavy voice said: "Sorry, Beck. We decided to come a few minutes early. Hope you don't mind." The person speaking as if he was two men living in the same body could not have been mistaken for anyone else.

And Venom appeared, holding two duffle bags under his arms. His long tongue slobbered to the left side of his mouth. He gave a white, pointy grin. "So," he said, "which one is our room?"


	5. As Planned

**Somewhere in midtown, New York City**

Spider-Man had been swinging around the snow-covered New York City for hours, searching for any sign of the Sinister Six. He tapped the throat-mike that SAFE had provided him so that he could keep in touch easily, telling Agent Doug Deely on the other line the bad news.

Spider-Man had been swinging around the snow covered city for hours, searching for any possible sign of the Sinister Six. God, why couldn't he have picked this profession in someplace warmer, like Miami? Yeah. Miami sounded nice right about now. A beach, an ocean breeze, the sun burning your skin, not feeling that your toes were about to fall off from frostbite. Even in his thermal costume, which he had designed to better protect himself from the cold, he was still numb and felt a head cold coming on. Oh yeah, that's all he needed right now. To be fighting the Sinister Six with a bad case of the sniffles.

"Wall crawler, I have no idea how you are swinging around in your pajama's out there. It's below freezing!" Came Deely's voice through the mike.

Spider-Man tapped it and replied, "A little informal there, eh, Deels?"

"Why should I be formal?"

Spider-Man shook his head as he leaped forty stories straight up, clinging to the wall as he reached his peak. "Never mind. What exactly are you doing to try and find the Six? They're not exactly in the yellow pages."

"Neither are you." he noted. "But we've got a special team out searching for any sign of them."

"By sign, you mean murders, I take it." The following silence was enough for Spider-Man to understand that he was right.

Deely said: "Don't worry, Spidey. Knowing the Six, if you don't find them...they'll find you."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Sorry." Deely said.

"All right, I'm out."

Spider-Man shot a webline, showing that his web fluid had _not_ frozen yet, and took to the sky. Why did murdering megalomaniacs have to show up to destroy the world when it was negative ten degrees out? Why couldn't they come out when it was sunny, and when the sun seemed to smile and sing happy songs? No, because then they were cutting into his summer time, when he wanted to be at the pool or the park. But right now he wanted to be sitting in with his wife drinking cocoa and watching reruns of Seinfeld. He tsked. There is just never really a good time for crazed supervillans to show up...no matter what, you always want to be somewhere else._Well of course I want to be somewhere else! Who wants to be in the same room with six people who all want to kill you?_

Yes, Spider-Man really did not want to be looking for the Sinister Six right now. Mary Jane was probably home for her audition. His model/actress wife was struggling to find creditable work ever since her first big role in _Fatal Action III. _Her latest one was about a ballerina who was trying to communicate to aliens on a nearby planet through the art of dance...not Mary Jane's ideal role. He wanted to be home with her, hugging her, asking about her day, drinking coffee(of course there would be coffee!), and to just _not_ be outside in this crazy weather looking for six madmen. Yeah, they were crazy, all right. The next one crazier than the last...

* * *

**Washington Heights, New York City**

"Ah, Mr. Brock. I see you've decided to join us."

Venom's grinning mouth closed, and the suited man nodded. "Yeah, but Beck told you about the...fine print, didn't he?"

Octavius nodded, not bothering to stand from his current position on the couch. "Yes, we all know about your unpredictable personality, Brock. My partners doubt your value to the team, but I think that you will make an astounding addition to the Sinister Six."

Venom rolled his eyes, though with the alien suit no one could notice. "Yeah, yeah. Yadda yadda. Which room is mine?"

Octavius smiled. "The one farthest down the hall, to the left."

Venom nodded and turned down the hallway, leaving the other members of the Sinister Six to their open debate over why their latest partner should stay or go. Octavius paid no attention to their incompetence. They could not see the true reason why he had chosen Venom, though he had tried to explain it to them. His partners thought that his betrayal was a bad thing, that his connection with Spider-Man was a bad thing! Bah! The narrow-minded fools!

Octavius stood, his metal arms snakelike in the air. His partners instantly focused on him. He beamed with the attention. He had them feeding out of his hand. Without him and his master plan to destroy Spider-Man they were clueless!

"We shall attack tomorrow, as planned." He announced. He then left them to their debate as he went to his room. His was the largest, of course. He needed the open space to think, to control. He sat on his bed, his adamantium harness sending tingling messages up and down his spine.

Yes. They would attack tomorrow.

And all would go as planned.


	6. Found Out

"Spider-Man! Hey! Spider-Man!"

The man in the red-and-blue costume sighed. Every time he started swinging overhead, some random New Yorker would stop to call out his name, as if the busy crime fighter had time to sit and chat. Spider-Man ignored the big man, in a thick coat and Yankees hat, as he approached.

"Spider-Man!"

He was nearly past him now, just a few more feet and he'd be down the block. He just wanted to keep moving--he was freezing his toes off.

"It's Mysterio!"

Spider-Man nearly fell from his webline. He flipped, landed on top of a parked taxicab, and turned to face this average man. What information could he possibly have on Mysterio? The man ran up the paved sidewalk to meet Spider-Man. Onlookers stared with big eyes and gaping mouths.

"What did you say about Mysterio?" Spider-Man said, not giving the heavy man a chance to catch his breath.

"I work in 'da subways, Spider-Man," he heaved with a heavy Brooklyn accent. "I saw Mysterio. I pretended not to notice 'im, 'cuz I like livin'. He was waitin' for someone."

"Do you know who he was waiting for?" Spider-Man asked the man, his knees tense in a ready position.

"Nah, sorry, Spider-Man."

"Don't be. Thanks." he said. He patted the man's shoulder and took for the sky. The man looked at the spot where Spider-Man's hand had just been and gave a childish giggle. Spider-Man touched him!

Spider-Man tapped his throat-mike, calling in for SAFE. "I got a lead on Mysterio. A Worker says he saw him in the subway."

"I'll get a squad down there, Spider-Man. But I don't want you wasting your time, your source is unreliable. We need you ready if the Six strike, not in the subway on a wild goose chase."

"Remind me when SAFE tells me what to do?" Spider-Man said, his tone sharp. He wasn't that bothered by it, and he actually agreed that he should remain on the streets with easy-access. But, really--where did SAFE get off telling him so?

Agent Dough Deely had chosen the wise response of silence, until he said, "Morgan wants you topside."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. What do you think Beck's doing in the subway?"

"Good place to hide out. Safe travel route. Perfect meeting spot."

Spider-Man leaped three floors up, spinning a web to reach the rooftop. "Okay, okay, forget I asked. I'm near Central Park, anything you want me to do?"

"Oh, you taking orders now?"

"If I like them."

"I'll buzz in if I have anything."

Spider-Man nodded and turned his mike off. Since when did Central Park look so nice during a snowstorm? I mean, really--it was breathtaking, like in a movie. He suddenly wished for Mary Jane, who was probably home alone. She would've loved this. Maybe they would've had a snowball fight. But he would've held back--otherwise his arm could've sent a snowball hurtling and breaking her ribcage.

He heard someone scream from below. Damn. He was spotted. He didn't like it when civilians knew his position. He liked having the element of surprise on his side. Plus, if random crowds were looking at him, who else was? Spider-Man decided to take a break on top of the Museum of Natural History. He used to spend a lot of time there. He once even saved the dinosaur exhibit from a mob of angry gang members. That wasn't even the time he saved the entire mammals exhibit. Oh, and he also saved everyone inside the planetarium when the controls had gone horribly wrong. But that was just him. In his opinion, he deserved a role in that Ben Stiller _Night At The Museum _movie.

"Spider-Man, do you copy?" came a voice from his mike. Deely. Of course.

"Nothing trademarked." he joked.

"Spider-Man, the Sinister Six have made their first move."

The color from Spider-Man's face drained. "Where?"

"You got a newspaper stand nearby?"

"What?"

"Yeah. The_ Bugle._ Go figure." Deely remarked.

"Who's the sixth member?" Spider-Man asked, hopping from the rooftop and skidding down the corner. There was a newspaper stand to his right. The stand was dusted with a light snowy cover. He picked up a copy of the paper and read the headline. He did not like what he saw.

_Sinister Six to Spider-Man: "It Ends"_

"It's Venom."

"Venom! That makes no sense, he's been laying low for months! Why would he come out hiding to join up with these nutjobs?"

"I dunno, Webs. Read the article and tell me what you think."

Spider-Man flipped open to the right page, oblivious to the man behind the counter. He was shivering--either from the cold or from the fact that a superhero was standing right in front of him. 

_"This letter was left in the office of the _Daily Bugle's_ publisher and editor-in-chief, J. Jonah Jameson. The police have identified that the handwriting is authentic. It was requested by the authors of this note that we place it in our newspaper:_

_ 'The member of the Sinister Six have decided to announce their latest chapter in our everlasting war against Spider-Man. We are proclaiming tomorrow a Day of Terror. We will attack the several places where Spider-Man has failed to save a life, failed to be there in the knick of time, to remind him exactly what sort of game he is playing. We have chosen this newspaper to run our declaration because, after all, its headlines gave us the idea in the first place.'_

_ The police, though confirmed that the note is authentic, are still doing an investigation and--"_

Spider-Man threw the paper back in the stack from where it came. "A Day of Terror? You've got to be kidding me."

"Yeah," Deely said. "Octopus, Mysterio, Electro, Chameleon, Vulture, and now you're old college buddy Venom. Sounds like one hell of a party."

"Any other information?"

"Just that it starts tomorrow, at the places where you 'failed'. I've got teams analyzing all the reports on your past activities, Spider-Man. They'll have a full list of possible locations by tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, but by tomorrow morning it may be too late."

Deely coughed. "Yeah, but Morgan's got them going. He's scary."

Spider-Man laughed. He appreciated Deely being so light-hearted, though he knew it was just a cover. They both understood the situation.

"Right. I need to get some rest if I'm going to have an entire day dedicated to trying to kill me."

"Agreed. Speak with you tomorrow, Spider-Man."

"Yeah, right."

_ **A/N: Just so you all know, I may not be able to update for a month or two. I am moving and my computer will be in a box on a U-Haul. I am leaving August 28th. I'll try to update, but it seems unlikely. Thanks for all the support!**__  
_


	7. Beforehand

Being the wife of a superhero was not an easy task. Mary Jane Watson-Parker sat home on her lumpy couch drinking a cup of hour-hold coffee, watching the news. The letter addressed to Spider-Man by the Sinister Six had become the top-story already, and news anchors around the state were saying everything they knew about the so-called Day of Terror, and how police and other memebers of the superhero community planned to prepare for it.

Mary Jane looked at her nails. She had bitten them to the bone already, and as a model and actress that didn't look very attractive. She thought about smoking again, but that habit was harder to stop and more dangerous than biting her nails.

"Lucy, I'm home!" cried a familiar voice from the front door. She hadn't even heard it creak open, but there stood her husband.

"Peter!" She smiled, running up to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long, passionate kiss. "I've been so worried! The Sinister Six are back!"

"Yeah, with a vengence." he noted.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

He kicked his shoes off at the door, pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack. He sat down on the couch and took his socks off, showing the red stockings underneath that were his Spider-Man outfit. "Me? Well, I'm gonna kick back, relax, have some Starbucks, try to go to sleep early--"

"Peter!"

Peter nodded, knowing how serious she was about the ordeal. "Think out it, Red. There's nothing I really can do to prepare myself for it. I've got SAFE on my team, so that'll make a hell of a difference. Maybe I'll dial up the Fantastic Four or the Avengers...I don't know, really."

Mary Jane sat beside him. "Can you really just dail them up? Just like that?"

"Well...no...let's talk about something else, shall we?" he said, knowing a change of topic would make Mary Jane worry much less. She nodded.

"What do you want to do, tiger?" she asked.

"Hrm...checkers?"

"Too slow."

"Monopoly?'

"Too Republican."

"Operation?"

"To realistic."

"Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots?"

"Too remniscent of your favorite hobby."

Peter groaned. "What else do you wanna do, Red?"

Mary Jane snuggled close and changed the channel on the television with the remote. She found an old Seinfeld epiosde, and Peter smiled. Watching Seinfeld reruns was a pastime of theirs. and it always made him feel better.

After dinner, Peter had taken a nice long bath to try and calm his nerves. He then laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew Mary Jane probably wasn't asleep either, but there was no sense in waking her to find out. He didn't want to worry her. He just stared blankly, blinking occasionally, and worried about the lies, fights and hospital bills that awaited him.

* * *

Doctor Otto Octavius was not sleeping soundly, like his fellow teammates. No, too much was to be done, too much was still not ready. Of course, he could just make it up as he went. It would always work out, as long as innocents were killed. He heard the snores of Quentin Beck, who was sleeping in the room next to his.

His mind was busy plotting. Come morning he would tell his fellow mayhem-makers where they would first strike, where they would continue on, and the difference between who they could kill and who they _had_ to kill.

He grinned, his metal arms wailing in the air.

Tomorrow it all started.

And tomorrow, it would all end.

**_A/N: I got an update in! Sorry for the wait--it's ver hectic for me at the moment._**


	8. Early That Morning

The Day of Terror finally came once Peter peeked at the clock at 12:01. He didn't know how he felt, but all he knew was that he sure as hell was not looking forward to it. Peter spent about a half an hour staring blankly at the ceiling, and then he rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Mary Jane, though he knew she was already up.

Peter slouched is way over to the kitchen and started brewing a cup of coffee. Mary Jane had smelled the caffiene-fiend extraordinaire cooking up his favorite Starbucks blend and she decided to go comfort him. By the time she fought the drowsiness and got out of her lumpy bed, she found a maskless Spider-Man sitting at the kitchen table. He had some sort of earpiece-mike setup wired from his ears to throat. Mary Jane sat next to him and found a cup waiting for her.

"You sleep good?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Was all the said. They sipped their coffee in silence. When he had only one gulp left in his mug Peter set his coffee down. He turned his wife and kissed her long and passionatley. "I love you." he said.

"I love you too." she replied.

He then pulled down his mask and opened up the window that was over the sink and he was gone. Just like that. Mary Jane got up and hugged herself in her robe. She shut out the winter cold as she closed the window. She then went back to her coffee. Would that be the last time she would see her husband? She did not ask herself this question, as it would only bring tears. But the truth was, Mary Jane honestly did not know.

* * *

Damn, it was cold. It wasn't that normal winter cold, but that cold only a New Yorker could truly describe. I bit your skin down to the bone. It numbed your limps as soon as the wind touched your skin. It made your teeth literally chatter against one another. And, even in his thermal costume, Spider-Man felt as if he'd turn into an ice sculpture any minute.

Did God hate him? Did he make this Day of Terror so bitterly cold just to torture him even more? Spider-Man pondered on this question a lot, and today was no exception, as he swung high on his weblines to New York City. His little home in Queens was not a far communte, but he still wished he lived in an apartment there. He loved thinking about it. Oh, Times Square was on fire? Let me just jump out the window, it's right down the block!

Spider-Man jumped ontop of a cab as it drove him through the tunnel. The driver looked out his window as he continued through the dimly-lit tunnel with pure shock on his face. Spider-Man fave a slight wave, then pointed to the road, telling him to drive more carefully. Yeah, that's all he needed right now. The cab he hitches a ride on crashes. Yeah, that'd be great.

"Spider-Man! Do you copy!" said Colonel Sean Morgan's voice in his ear.

Spider-Man tapped his throat-mike. "Nothing copyrighted!"

Morgan grinded his teeth. He didn't do jokes. "Can you make it to the SAFE Times Square office in twenty-minutes? I know it's early, but we need a jump-start on this thing."

Spider-Man saw the light that signaled the end of the tunnel and spun a web, which yanked him upwards into the concrete canyons of New York City. "Psh. I can make it in ten."


	9. Briefed

The mood was tense in the SAFE conference room was very tense. Yes, there was conversation. Yes, men laughed as they waited for Colonel Sean Morgan to arrive, but no one had forgotten why they were all gathered there. The fact that the Colonel and his crisis analyst Vince Palminetti, were late only made matters worse.

New York Police Commissioner Wilson Ramos did not take this news well. He sat outside a set of electronic doors, as he did not feel like waiting in the conference room, accompanied by Special Agent Doug Deeley. His scowl didn't improve as he complained. "Why did you even bother inviting me? You guys always take control of these situations anyway."

"Colonel Sean Morgan wants the NYPD in the loop, sir. We need all the help we can get to bring the Sinister Six down."

"He wants us to help? More like he wants us to share the blame when things go wrong."

Deeley nodded. "Let's introduce you to the rest, shall we?" Deeley opened the set of doors that held the conference room, equipped with a long table and straight-back chairs. "Everyone, you are now in the company of New York Police Commissioner, Wilson Ramos."

He was greeted politely, but he did not return the favor. Deeley nodded. Right. Well, this is Special Agent Joshua Ballard--" a man sitting at the far end nodded. He had been one of the agents to give Ramos an aircar lift, along with Matt Gunderson, who was introduced next.

Deeley pointed to a skinny blonde man. "That would be Dr. Troy Saberstein, SAFE's stress counsellor and advisor on tactical psychology. Over there is Agent Clyde Fury, and the Asian woman is Special Agent Shirlene Annanayo."

Ramos nodded at them as they smiled. Fury then took a tray from a nearby counter and slid it across the table towards the Police Commissioner. "Cookie?"

Ramos eyed the plate. "You have got to be kidding me."

"They're goooood." Gunderson persuaded.

Ramos did not take a cookie. "What kind of secret agents are you? And why did you have to host this meeting in a floating aircraft carrier? Why don't you get an office building, like normal people?"

"Do we really strike you as normal people?" Deeley joked.

"Office buildings aren't mobile, as we need in emergency situations around the globe." Fury responded.

Ramos suddenly recognized the name. "Fury! You're not related to Nick--"

"Nope, never even met the guy."

The conversation then stopped as more people in SAFE's battle armor entered the room and took their seats. A young man named Walt Evans, a beautiful girl who went by Donna Piazza, SAFE's FBI liason Martin Walsh, and a few others whose names Ramos failed to catch. Ramos didn't mind the folks in the dumb matching uniforms, but the next individual to enter the room was the last straw.

It was Spider-Man. He hopped in, skittered across the ceiling, and settled in a webline he spun above the center of the conference table. "Hello, bunkies! Sorry I'm late, you have no idea how hard it is to catch a cab in this city!"

Amid the general hellos, most guarded, but some warm and welcoming, Ramos cleared his throat. "Mr. Deeley, I would like to raise a protest over this...individual...being here. He has no official capacity."

Spider-Man's hooded head spun around to look at Ramos. "You've never seen me drink a grande Frappuchino, cuddles. I have tremendous capacity."

Ignoring the several grins, Ramos continued, "I don't think I can cooperate with a party that encourages his involvement."

Deeley sighed. "The Colonel did want the NYPD involved, but if you would like to leave then it is completely understood."

Ramos' mouth dropped. They were picking that masked vigilante over him? He shook his head. "I'll stay. But I want my objections on the record."

"What record, the Beetles? Or would you like a something that sounds a little more heavy metal?"

"Enough, Wall Crawler!" Colonel Sean Morgan said as he rushed inside the room. He didn't even hear Spider-Man's words, but he knew for a fact they were not professional. Vince Palminetti followed shortly afterwards.

"Jeez. Some people. Heya, Gunderson! Any chance a guy could get a cup of coffee around here?" Spider-Man shouted from across the room.

"Coming right atcha!"

Many faces became serious. They all looked at the Colonel, who had always made sure Spider-Man was never within five feet of caffeine. Colonel Morgan didn't have time to stop him, as Ramos asked, "Can we just get on with this, please?"

Colonel Sean Morgan was never classified as a happy person. But today his face was grave, his cold tone like ice. "Okay people. We'll make this meeting very brief, so we can get to our stations and get prepared for the day ahead of us. So no questions, no interruptions, and _no wisecracks!"_ He glared at Spider-Man, who was comfortably leaning on a wall in the back corner. 

"Spider-Man, we trust that you'll be busy throughout the day with various threats from the Six. We have no set station for you. Do your thing."

"Consider my thing done, Colonel."

Morgan winced. Was that considered a wisecrack? He ignored the comment and motioned at the men and women seated at the long conference table. "Deely, I have you in the aircar with a squad of thirty plus. Fury, you're to stay at base as needed. Gunderson, we need you and Ballard for airial support. Everyone else has been briefed already, correct?"

There were several nods.

"As we all know, the Sinister Six's Day of Terror is taking place in all the places Spider-Man here has failed to save a life. We've come up with a list of possible locations, but remember, these people are sick. We have no idea what they're planning. The Brooklyn Bridge is almost certain to be a location. For those of you who don't know, that was where Gwen Stacy was killed. The place of her father's death, Captain Stacy, is also likely. The death of the original Green Goblin could also be a possibility. Other than that, we're going in blind. The Day of Terror can begin at any second, so what the hell are you doing sitting here! Move it, people!"

Spider-Man was the first person out the door.


	10. Heading Out

"Where'd he go?"

Quentin Beck had been suiting up, preparing for the long-awaited Day of Terror he and his five partners had set out on Spider-Man, and found that after searching all the rooms, Venom was no where in sight.

"He took off!" The Vulture hissed, sitting on the couch in his green flight costume.

"I told you he couldn't be trusted!" Electro moaned in agreement.

Doctor Octopus, the unoffical leader of the group, had heard all the racket and entered the large family room. "My friends, Venom is taking out the assignment that I discussed with him. He is a rouge, as I informed you, and is unpredictable, though he understands that he is not to be seen or to act until I give him permission to do so."

"I don't get it. You want him to go off and do whatever he pleases? What about the plan?"

"Don't you see? The authoroties, and, of course, Spider-Man, will be expecting all of us--including Venom--to be working towards the same goal. But if Venom works solo _while in_ the Sinister Six, it will throw everyone off. He is our secret weapon, and he knows it.I know it's not very stable, but you must trust that he is the right man for the job. He's gotten as personal with Spider-Man as any of us."

"Okay, Octavius. But I don't like it. Let's go over our assignments again." the Chameleon told him.

"Very well. You all know our first _major _place of attack, and Mysterio is going to be the only man there. The rest of you--Chameleon, Electro, Vulture--you all have been briefed and know exactly what to do and where to go. Vulture, you are easily spotted in the sky. Get to your point of takeoff without being seen, as to not give away the location of our safehouse. Electro, you know where to go, correct? And Chameleon, you and I have matters to discuss, since, and forgive me, my friend, you are not one known for your strength."

The Chameleon nodded. He had long since accepted the fact that he was not one to go out and punch Spider-Man right out in the face, but he was an asset to the team. By disgusing himself as anyone in the world, he could do anything. Thinking back, he remembered how he once had morphed into Brad Pitt. Oh, what a day that had been. But today promised to be even better.

"Okay, let's move out. We all are to take the subway passage, and then separate once we get to the fork."

The five most deadly men in the world stood, costumed with their gear, spandex, and evil faces.

As they filed out, Electro was the only one to speak. "I am _so _lookin' forward to this."


	11. Conversation with the Colonel

"Spider-Man, come in!" It was Colonel Morgan. _Again._

Spider-Man tuned in his mic. "Welcome to Burger King. Would like fries with that?"

"Enough, Spider-Man! We need you focused! The Six could strike at any moment at any of the possible locations, plus some!"

"No kidding."

"I've got men stationed all over, Spider-Man, plus others at the Hellicarrier ready to be deployed at a moment's notice."

Spider-Man was perched atop a low building in SoHo. "Oh, you've got extras? That's good. I thought you'd have to take some men outta Iraq to cover all the places I've let people down. I mean, jeez, you guys came up with such a good list."

Morgan's voice was cold. "Shut up."

"What?"

"I said, 'Shut up'. You're not doing this operation any good."

"Oh, operation? Is that all this is to you?" Spider-Man asked.

"Oh please! You superhero types! You think you're the only one with guilt, Spider-Man? There are doctors who feel the guilt of their dead patients, paramedics who feel the guilt of the slow car as their passenger lays dying, cops answering a 911 call too late."

"There are just so many in my case." Spider-Man sulked.

"You know why, Wallcrawler? Because you_ try."_

"But my failures--"

"Shut up about you! This is not about you! This is about a bunch of monsters about to attack innocent people!"

Spider-Man felt awkward on the rooftop. "Colonel, wait. I--"

"Stop, Spider-Man! We are not friends! We will never be friends! I don't care what happens today, I still don't like you! Now_--hold on..._we have a situation."

Spider-Man groaned. "Don't you always."


	12. The First Assault

Captain George Stacy had been a fine police officer, not to mention the father of Gwen Stacy, the girl that changed Peter Parker's life forever. Spider-Man knew the spot of his death well, as the Captain had there asked the hero as he lay dying to take care of Gwen, and that he had known about his true identity for some time. Gwen had died in later months atop the Brooklyn Bridge, but Spider-Man could not worry about that location right now. Because, apparently, something was going on now. SAFE couldn't confirm, but reports of a crazy man with metal arms had been filed in.

Yay. They were starting off with the worst.

Doctor Octavius was the one who had gotten SAFE involved in the Day of Terror situation, as his mastermind ways made him more dangerous than all the others combined. He was an internationally wanted man, who endangered the globe on some occasions. Not only that, but his hate for Spider-Man had overflowed these past few months.

"I'm heading in, Morgan. Send in a team to scout the area for other members of the Six." Spider-Man ordered as he took to the skies.

The Colonel, outraged but knowing he could not argue with the Wallcrawler during such a delicate situation, reluctantly did so. Agent Doug Deeley would be on his way, he said, along with a team of a dozen other agents.

Spider-Man turned the corner, and he was only a few blocks away from the spot of the Captain's death. He had been crushed under debris as he pushed a young child out of its way. Flashing red and blue lights told the hero that the police were not going to sit this one out, which was appreciated. As long as he didn't get arrested. Again.

Doctor Octavius was not hard to spot. His silhouette could be easily seen blocks away. He was a large, chubby man with four thick metal tentacles. Ya can't really miss him.

Spider-Man landed one rooftop away from the Doctor, ready to leap into an attack at a moment's notice. "Ockie-poo! Haven't seen you since Jersey. How was prison? I sent you flowers, did you get them?"

"Spider-Man, right on time. With your stupid witticisims, as always." The Doctor shouted back. "Look below us, Spider-Man, at the street. It has clearly been evacuated. And look--you even have fans." At this he motioned at a young boy wearing a Spider-Man shirt. The boy was tan and maybe thirteen years old. His beaming eyes and wide smile made Spider-Man smile back under his mask.

Doc Ock continued. "This day will not be falsely named, Spider-Man. Terror is not to be taken lightly."

At this, one of his metal tentacles smashed into the side of the building he was on. Debris started tumbling below to the evacuated street. But then something happened below that made Spider-Man's heart stop.

Police officers had been holding off the civilian onlookers back, making sure no one was too close to the fight. The officer in front of the young boy suddenly jerked the boy forward, toward the falling brick and stone that had been knocked loose of the building. The officer then took out an AK-47 sub-machine gun from under his coat, and he began to fire into the air. The officer's face suddenly started to change. It was the Chameleon.

Spider-Man dove off the roof, but he knew he was too late. He watched as the little boy was buried under the rubble and was killed on impact. He then looked into the crowd, and saw that the Chameleon was shooting random onlookers, one by one.

"Day of _Terror_, Spider-Man!" Doc Ock laughed. "Not falsely named, indeed."

_A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. Now, I've been getting some reviews and PMs complaining that I am copying the Castro books. Well, yeah, I am. But I'm putting my own spin on it and the events that unfold in the most brilliant novel EVER. I said that in the disclaimer. So yeah, you will continue to see parts of the book in this fanfiction. _


	13. Tragedy

_I wasn't fast enough. I failed. Again._

Spider-Man rushed into the crowd, searching for the murderous Chameleon. He tripped over the bodies of the shot and the dead.

_It's my fault..._

The gun was tossed before him. The Chameleon dropped it. He had escaped.

_My fault..._

Spider-Man looked up. Doctor Octavius was laughing. Spider-Man looked at the pile of stone and brick that crushed the little boy.

_My fault._

Spider-Man ran over to the debris and started throwing large pieces off the pile, trying to find the bottom of the endless rubble that was on top of the boy. Paramedics and cops had the situation under control now, he knew. He heard it. He also felt the help of other officers and they worked with the hero to free the boy's body.

Suddenly Spider-Man saw a hand. He grabbed it, hesitating at first.Then he jumped. "I got a pulse!" he said, dropping the hand. "Move the bricks! Move it, faster!"

There was no way, it was just impossible. But the boy was not dead, not yet. Spider-Man flung the rubble off, finally seeing the boy's shirt with his picture on it. Spider-Man picked the lifeless body up from the ground and ran faster than he ever had before to the closest ambulance he saw.

He handed the boy to a black paramedic lady. He didn't hear what she said, because he was too busy looking at the body bags. A voice came in through his ear piece. It was Deeley.

"Spider-Man.I heard what happened. There was nothing you could do--you couldn't have known!"

"It's my fault. The Six is out for blood, they're not playing games. I didn't take them seriously, and now people are dead."

"Spider-Man--"

Spider-Man felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Oh God...there must be at least a dozen shot."

"Spider-Man, you can sulk later! We've got a situation on the Brooklyn Bridge! It's Electro! How fast can you get there? I'm on my way to your position, I'll take control."

Spider-Man titled his head at a group of advancing people. "Uh oh. Longer than I anticipated. I got company."

"Who? Venom? Vulture?"

Spider-Man shook his head. "Nope. NYPD." Spider-Man turned his attention to the approaching officers. Their faces were as grave as his. Surely they had something to say about the tragedy the day had started out to be.

"Spider-Man, I am Captain Chuck Mercier of the 87th."

"A little far away from home, huh?" Spider-Man said, knowing that the officer had probably been pulled here by a commanding officer, but decided to make the remark anyway. He knew this officer. They were not friends.

"Spider-Man, I have every right to arrest you for murder!"

"Oh no. Not this." Spider-Man said. "I'm feeling guilty enough without your help."

"I will unmask you_ right_ here,_ right_ now, and you know I am_ not_ bluffing!"

"Listen, Captain, I will literally rip my mask off for you and skip into my cell, but right now I have lives to save."

"Yeah, you did a good job of that here, too."

Spider-Man winced. "That was uncalled for. You know I tried, Mercier. You know that."

"If it wasn't for you, we'd have fifteen extra people here, still breathing. Including that kid--"

"The boy? He's _dead?"_

"Yep. Didn't make it to the hospital, just got the word in."

Spider-Man's heart sank. He knelt on the ground, his stomach sick. He was just a kid. And fourteen others, dead? Shot down in cold blood for no good reason. Just to prove that Spider-Man failed, that Spider-Man couldn't do it.

"Spider-Man, there's no warrant out for you arrest, but after this little episode--"

The Wallcrawler felt someone standing behind him. Special Agent Doug Deeley had finally arrived with his team. He cupped his hand on the hero's shoulder.

"And, considering that there are no warrants out, and that the Sinister Six are still out there wrecking havoc, it would be unwise to the interest of the public to arrest him right now. SAFE Special Agent Doug Deeley, here on Colonel Sean Morgan's orders. The Webslinger leaves._ Now." _

Spider-Man nodded. "Thanks, Deeles. I owe you one."

"Kick Electro's ass, and we'll call it even."


	14. Just Not Yet

Nobody ever said that being the wife of a superhero was an easy job. If such a statement was mad, Mary Jane Watson-Parker would surely prove them wrong. She was trying to concentrate and was trying to keep her mind preoccupied, but every few minutes she'd turn on the television just to check that Spider-Man was still alive.

She was sitting on the couch with several different scripts laid out all around. Being an actress was not easy, but for an up-and-coming actress it was terrible. She still had a contract with the_ Fatal Action _movies that she'd appear in another one in the series, but she still needed more--for experience and for the money.

The most recent script was about a garage band that found out that aliens exist, and they tried using the extraterrorestrial technology to win a battle of the bands gig, but it winds up turning the crowd and fans into monsters. Mary Jane didn't even finish page four by the time it ended up in the trashcan.

She eyed a pack of cigarettes that was on the table. She started and quit smoking several times, and she was tempted to try another one to help her deal with the stress of Peter being out there all day, fighting people who dedicated an entire day to making his life miserable. No, not yet. She continued biting her nails instead.

She turned on the television for the fifth time in two minutes. The reporter's face was grave as she told her viewers what had just happened at West 20th, the site of Captain Stacy's death. Mary Jane's mouth fell open. _Oh God, Peter,_ she thought. _Don't let that get to you. Take a guilt trip later, focus! Don't let them get to you! _

"It's gotta be hard, huh?" said a cold, dry voice. Mary Jane spun around. There, standing on the stairway, was Eddie Brock.

"What?--how'd you?--"

"The window to the attic. It's how Pete sneaks back inside all the time, ain't it?"

"Eddie--what--?Oh God! No!" Mary Jane reached for a phone. A black, wet, slimy symbiote tentacle snatched it before she could get to it. Mary Jane turned to see the suited Venom ."How dare you! The fact that you know Peter's secret, and use it like this? I'm disgusted."

"It's a bad-guy thing, MJ. Get used to it."

"Who sent you here?"

"No one.We don't take orders. Sit down on the couch."

Mary Jane did as she was told. She did not take her teary eyes off of the murderer standing in her home. "What do you want?" 

Venom gave a sharp-toothed smile. "Who said we want anything? Can't we just...talk?"

He sat next to her. Mary Jane inched away from him. "No, we can't just talk. I refuse to talk to the likes of you. G-get out of my house."

"We told you, we don't take orders. Now, Let's watch the news, shall we?""

"Just tell me what you want, Eddie."

Venom turned up the volume on the television using the remote. "We'll tell you...just...not yet."


	15. Afraid of Heights?

"Electro is on the bridge! I repeat, _Electro is on the bridge!"_

"I know, I know! Like I didn't hear you the first five times!" Spider-Man shouted into his mic back at Deeley.

"What's your current position?"

"I don't know, I'm moving too fast to read street signs here and I_--oh no_. I got company." Spider-Man said, still in mid-swing.

"NYPD again?" Deeley asked.

Spider-Man landed on a rooftop. "Nope. _Vulture."_

"Where?"

_ "Right above me."_

The Vulture's green flying suit made him fly faster than the human eye could follow. His razor-sharp tips to his wings made Spider-Man's spider-sense tingle, and he rolled out of the way, already on the defense.

"We don't have time for this, Spider-Man! Electro is on the bridge!"

"I know he's on the bridge!" Spider-Man spat, annoyed, dodging another swipe from the Vulture.

"Ready to die, Spider-Man?" The Vulture laughed, flying a little higher, out of his reach.

"Is that a trick question?"

Deeley's voice entered in Spider-Man's ear, "Electro is on the--"

_"I know he's on the bridge!" _

"Oh, Electro's at work, is he?" the old man cackled, flying and stalking his prey.

"Yeah. What, you guys aren't even taking turns, Cuddles?"

"And give you a minute's peace? Never!"

The Vulture swooped down, and Spider-Man took the chance at getting in a good blow. He winded up his arm; timing would mean everything here. The Vulture came down, his ugly, wrinkled mug grinned, and Spider-Man let his arm fly, knocking the man off course. He tumbled onto the roof, rolling and coming to a halt on his back. He opened his eyes to look up when his vision was cut off by a red, fuzzy boot. Spider-Man leaped off his face, gaining height and then coming smashing down, fist first. The Vulture quickly rolled out of the way as the impact of the punch on the roof cracked it.

Spider-Man looked up and saw the Vulture flying away.

"Oh no, not this time, Toomes!"

Spider-Man jumped up, spun a webline that caught on to the Vulture's ankle, and started dragging like the tail of a kite. The Vulture realized this and quickly gained altitude. Before Spider-Man realized what he was doing it was too late--if Spider-Man was to jump off now he'd be crushed as he landed, or the force of gravity would brake him as soon as he ricocheted off a web.

"Electro is on the bridge, do you copy?" It was Deeley. Man, the guy had bad timing.

"I'm about to be dropped over a thousand feet! Do _you _copy?"

The Vulture then did something somewhat unexpected. He shook Spider-Man off his webline, but then caught him as he began to fall. The Vulture dug a razor into Spider-Man's shoulder, and the pain was intense. Spider-Man also, due to the altitude, had a major headache and bleeding nose.

"Prepare to die, Spider-Man!"

"Uh...right...or, I could do this..." And Spider-Man flipped himself over onto the Vulture's back. He had done this trick many times before, and the Vulture knew how it ended. No, he would not let him do it again. He quickly rolled in the air, and Spider-Man started to fall.

On instinct, Spider-Man shot a webline at the Vulture again. At this rate he was the only way he'd survive the fall. But no, the Vulture was out of range. He was doomed.

But Spider-Man got creative, as he had done in the past. He started to spray a mass of web fluid; at first it was just a blob, but then he started to mold it and create something beautiful. A hang-glider. Pure genius.

Spider-Man gripped the hang-glider and allowed it to float with the breeze. His ears started to pop from the change in pressure, and as soon as he saw the streets he felt at home again.

"No! I will not let you live!"

The Vulture swooped down again, but Spider-Man dodged, jumped off the hang-glider, and stuck to the side of a building. Electro was on the bridge. He was more powerful than the Vulture. He had to be dealt with.

"Sorry, Vulchie! I've got more important people to fight!"

"What? You-you dare insult me!"

"Yeah, yeah yeah. Like I'm ever _not_ insulting you."

Spider-Man then took off, signing in to Deeley as he made his way. "Deeley, I'm heading to the bridge. But I need someone to take care of Vulture. Do you copy?"

"I copy. A team will be there within two minutes. Over."

"Roger that."

His voice lost some of it's military tone. "What, you're speaking my lingo now?"

Spider-Man smiled. "Yeah, well...I'm just cool like that."

"Right. Don't let Vulture out of your sight until the team arrives."

"Will do, Deels. Just make it quick, okay?"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know...because he wants to kill me?" Spider-Man said, peeking behind him for the first time. The Vulture was in fast pursuit. In range of a good swipe of his razors. Not good.

Spider-Man allowed himself to drop twenty feet, landing and running on a rooftop. He knew he couldn't take this fight to the streets, though he'd have an advantage there. No, too many people would be at risk. So Spider-Man kept the Vulture running until the team showed up.

The Vulture, realizing what was going on, turned around and ran again. Spider-Man didn't chase him. He had Electro to fight. And he was not looking forward to it.


	16. Little Pieces

Mary Jane Watson-Parker had been in the presence of evil masterminds before. She had been in life-threatening situations before. She had been taken hostage before. She had cheated death before. But having Venom sit on her couch beside her, watching the news...no, this was a first.

"Toomes is such a moron." Venom said aloud. "Complete nutcase."

"Look who's talking."

Venom laughed, which made Mary Jane feel a little more comfortable. Maybe he wasn't there to kill her. Maybe he was just crazy, and he stopped by just to scare her. To show her how real this was. Because it was so, so real.

"Can't we watch somethin' else, Red?Wedon't wanna watch these idiots screw up our Day of Terror."

"Idiots? You're with them, ya know."

_"Psh._We don't consider oursevles 'with' anybody. Yeah, We're helpin' 'em out. We don't take orders from _nobody. _Hand over the remote." Venom switched channels, anxious to find something decent to watch. Finally he found something. _Batman. _Mary Jane chuckled, finding that strangely ironic.

"This move is bullcrap." Venom said. "Please. The hero always gets the happy ending, it always ends bad for the evil guys."

"What's wrong with that?"

Venom took his eyes off the screen. It was the death scene of the Joker. "That ain't how real life works, sweetheart. That's why six of the most deadliest men are out here today."

"And that's why Spider-Man's trying." Mary Jane said.

"And that's why people are getting killed."

"And that's why he's trying. Because you all need to prove some sick, twisted point about him."

Venom snarled. "Reality's a bitch, ain't it? People don't wanna be reminded of the world they live in.That's why Batman gets off so easy. That's why the movies created happily ever after."

"And that's why Spider-Man's not going to die today." Mary Jane hissed. Venom stood, walked into the kitchen, and opened up the door to the fridge. Mary Jane dove to the table beside the couch and grabbed a phone. 911 was on speed-dial.

Mary Jane hid the phone when Venom entered. "Alright. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Someplace where your NYPD buddies won't find us. Let's go, move it."

Mary Jane stood and was escorted out by Venom. She saw Venom's eyes find the phone. He picked it up and smashed it with one flex of his fist. The phone crumbled on the phone in little pieces.


	17. Project: Distract Sparky

The Brooklyn Bridge was still a place of pure misery for Spider-Man. Even looking at the place gave him a pain in his chest. All he could see was Gwen's beautiful, young face. And in various nightmares he had, he always replayed the scene exactly as it had happened.

The Green Goblin was there, hovering over the unconscious girl's body. Spider-Man leaped in the action as he always did. Gwen's body rolls off the tower of the Brooklyn Bridge as the Goblin pushes her. Spider-Man dives and catches Gwen's limp leg with a string of webbing. He pulls her back onto the bridge, telling her he knew he would never let anything happen to her. But then he sees she is not breathing, not moving, and he realizes that she is dead. The Goblin taunts him, saying that Spider-Man's web snapped her neck, that her death was Spider-Man's fault and not his own. And, still, to this day, Spider-Man can not confirm it himself if he really had killed his girlfriend or not.

"Spider-Man, do you copy? I've buzzed you like, five times!"

"Sorry, Deeley!" Spider-Man said. "I was lost in thought--it was unfamiliar territory."

His little quip did not receive any laughs from the man on the other line. "Electro has hostages, Webs. We approximate over two hundred stuck in their cars. His electrical charges are running along the bridge, trapping the hostages and leaving us with no way in."

"No way in? There's always a way in, Deeley. Ya just gotta get...creative. Something your boss Morgan never taught you in day-care."

Spider-Man screeched to a halt on top of a building in Soho. There it was, the Brooklyn Bridge. Electro's traps lit it up and made it look surreal, like a Disney World ride. Spider-Man tapped his throat-mike. "I can see the Bridge, Deeley."

"I've got teams surrounding the area. How do you plan on getting on the Bridge with all that electricity?"

Spider-Man thought for a moment, then smiled under his mask. "I got it. Can I get a lift?"

"I'm breaking formation, my aircar will meet you in a few moments. Got something in mind?"

"Don't I always?" Spider-Man said. He told Deeley his exact location and waited for him to arrive. He started jogging in place to keep himself from freezing over. It had started snowing. He hated snow. Especially now. Especially with two-hundred hostages with potential hypothermia. He had to get there, and fast. Those people couldn't survive long in these temperatures. He was superhuman and he was having a hard time dealing with it.

The aircar arrived, Spider-Man make a remark about Deeley taking his time doing so, and he was rejuvenated by the aircar's ionic field. It kept the temperature inside nice and toasty for its passengers.

"Sorry, Webhead. I had to ok the plan with Morgan. He doesn't like being kept in the dark and, frankly, neither do I. What are you planing?"

Spider-Man didn't answer for a moment. He was busy calculating the wind velocity with the rate of falling with--

"Spider-Man!"

"What, what?!" he snapped, more frightened of Deeley's outburst than annoyed, which was his tone.

"What are you planning?" the tall black man repeated.

Spider-Man pointed. "Take me above the Bridge, southwest."

"Why? You're gonna jump in?"

Spider-Man nodded as the aircar rose. "I need a distraction. Can you get one of your aircar buddies to start shooting at him or something."

Deeley hesitated. "I'll have to ask Morgan. I--what are you doing?"

Spider-Man didn't answer. This required concentration. Deeley tired to peek at what he was up to, but Spider-Man's body blocked his current project. Spider-Man then turned around and Deeley just blinked. "A hang-glider? You can't be serious."

"I'm normally not, but I've done this before. Just today, actually."

"Today?"

"Oh, you didn't get that memo? Yeah. It comes in handy when the Vulture drops you a few thousand feet. Okay. Tell your boys to start Project: Distract Sparky. I'm going in."


	18. The Brooklynn Bridge

Maneuvering the hang-glider wasn't the hard part. Landing on the Bridge without being crushed or trampled wasn't the hard part. The bitter cold temperatures that had his body numb wasn't the hard part. The hard part was making it to the Bridge with Electro distracted so he would not spot Spider-Man in the air and electrocute him with a single shot.

Thankfully, Deeley held up his end of the bargain. As Spider-Man came closer to the earth, a SAFE aircar had opened fire, and an enraged Electro began to attack. Spider-Man eased up his speed, preparing to land. As soon as he was close enough to Electro, he let go of the web hang-glider and aimed a kick right at the back of Electro's neck.

Electro shouted out in surprise as he rolled onto the floor. Spider-Man did a hand-spring over to the east side of the bridge. He spun around and landed facing the tower, and that was when he saw it.

Gwen Stacy. Falling to her death. Again.

At first Spider-Man thought it was Judgment Day, and that this was his chance to rewrite history. But then the image of his once-true-love disappeared, and it was replaced by another holographic image falling to the same fate again. Spider-Man's spider-sense when crazy, and he narrowly escaped a blast from Electro. Spider-Man tapped his throat-mike. "Why didn't someone tell me about the hologram!? Electro almost fried me while I was lookin' at it!"

"I take full responsibility." It was Morgan.  
"Oh, and you'll _get_ full responsibility! How did you think I'd react to that? Yow!"—Spider-Man leaped onto the side of the tower as a blast of electricity hit the spot he had been in two seconds ago. He looked up, but Electro was not there. Then a volt of pure electric power whizzed right by his head, but his spider-sense had given him no warning. Then Electro appeared, punching Spider-Man right across the face.

"Oh, you liked my little surprise, Spider-Man? Sorry to take you away from looking at it, but the show must go on!"

"Gwen was an innocent young girl, you psycho! How dare you use her in this twisted game you're playing!"

"Oh, I dare! I dare to do a lot of things, Spider-Man! I dare to set up that hologram of the pretty dead girl. I dare to declare today the day I ruin your life! I declare today the day I gain redemption!"

_ "Redemption?"_ Spider-Man said aloud. "Isn't that a big word for you?"

Electro sniggered and vanished, only to turn up in a different location seconds later. There was no way he could've gotten up there so fast!

"Something's fishy here, boys." Spider-Man said.

"What do you mean? Fishy because you're above the water? This is not a time for your dumb jokes, Spider-Man!" Morgan shouted.

Spider-Man couldn't help but laugh as he scouted the area for his enemy. "No pun intended on that one, Colonel."

That was when Spider-Man noticed it. Electro was on top of the tower, but as soon as he blinked Electro was right before him. Spider-Man tapped in. "Hey boys? Does Electro's powers include reproducing himself?"

"What?"

"I've got two Electros on the Bridge, fellas. Which means we have two members of the Six right here!"

"What? Impossible! Our readings—"

"Were wrong," Spider-Man interjected the Colonel. Spider-Man cleared his throat and waved down Electro. "Hey, Sparky! Tell your buddy to come on out now, the joke's over!"

That was when the second Electro appeared right beside the other. The first one threw something to the ground, and an in-costume Mysterio appeared in the pillar of smoke, his purple cape flapping valiantly in the air.

Unimpressed, Spider-Man said, "Okay. I've got a wanna-be actor and a sparkplug that's dumber than a doornail. Who wants to me to open a can of whoop-ass first, huh?"

Electro charged, shouting. "I am tired of you insulting me! I am smart enough to kill you!"

Spider-Man ducked and watched as Electro missed and flew over the Bridge, landing hard in the water and short-circuiting himself. Spider-Man looked over the edge and laughed. "Uh-huh, sure you are. Don't count you're chickens before the eggs hatch, Electro! Wait a minute…can you count?"

He had not forgotten about Mysterio, who know understood that one of the Sinister Six's most powerful members was down. He cackled. "We will meet again, Spider-Man!"

"Wait—does that mean you're coming to my birthday party?"

Mysterio created his cloud of artificial smoke, and then as it cleared he was gone. Spider-Man didn't bother trying to find him. He had enough trouble as it was.

"No sign of Electro of Mysterio, Spider-Man."

"Whaddaya mean?! I just watch Electro fall into the water!"

"And he can swim, apparently."

He groaned. "That's just great. Okay—any updates on the Six?"

"None yet," Morgan said. "I'm sending an aircar to your current position. Head to the hellicarrier and clean up your wounds."

"Sure thing." Spider-Man agreed. He turned his head and winced as he saw the hologram of Gwen again. God, that thing looked so real. He walked over to the projector, which had become hidden under the snow, and pulled the plug. The girl fell to her death again for the last time.

Spider-Man crouched there, holding the projector. It suddenly crumbled in his shaking hands. He sighed. "Damn it, Gwen…" he said out loud. "I'm sorry. I won't let them get away with this. With using your death to try and make some sick, twisted point. I miss you Gwenie." He said. He rolled up his mask, kissed his hand, and laid his hand on the spot where Gwen Stacy had rolled off the Bridge, and then was pulled back up only to be pronounced dead. With a heavy heart, Spider-Man jumped in the aircar. None of the agents said a word about what Spider-Man had been doing. They all knew the story too well.


	19. Inside the Hellicarrier

Once inside the conference room in the SAFE helicarrier, Spider-Man was treated to a nice cup of coffee--without the usual objection from Colonel Sean Morgan, which was a breather. Spider-Man didn't feel well, as he was sure he would end up with the flu or pnemonia or something from the freezing temperatures. But he kept fighting without complaint. Make that, without _much_ complaint.

"Okay, so you guys lost Electro and Mysterio. Great. What about Vulture?"

Deeley nodded as steam came out of Morgan's ears. "If you even _think_ accusing_ us_ for not apprehending the Six--"

"Well, let's see, Morgan: Did I not lure the Vulture out so you guys could get him? _Yes._ Did I not throw Electro into the East River? Uh, _yes._ So unless it's _my _job now to handcuff the guys and walk them to their cells, then _yeah,_ I _am _pretty much accusing you for not apprehending the Six!"

"What about Mysterio? You didn't even bother going after him! And the Chameleon--" Morgan shouted in defense.

"The Chameleon changed his face and ran like the coward that he is after he shot down more than a dozen people!"

"And Doctor Octopus--"

"Will pay," Spider-Man assured him. "I know better. This entire Day of Terror was his idea. And he's not gonna get away again." Spider-Man sipped his coffee, not meeting their eyes. He knew what they were all thinking now, since Morgan brought up Octavius. "I did all I could. You know that. I know that."

"Spider-Man, even more people would have died if you weren't there."

"Yeah. But because I started playing dress-up in the first place, this whole Day of Terror started. Everything has a way of finding fault with me. It's--"

"Oh, shut up! I do not want to hear you whine! If you feel that way, that's your own self-esteem problems! The truth is, Spider-Man, that life is terribly hard. And you need to get your costumed ass out there and make due with the powers you have and the knowledge we'll give you. The Six is probably striking again, right now, as you complain about how the world is your fault."

As of that, Spider-Man walked out of the room. But he ran back in, to grab his coffee.

Morgan shook his head. "I don't know what to do with that boy, Special Agent Deeley."

"Spider-Man is a character, sir. But he is also an asset to this operation. I would advise you not to get into anymore arguments with him, Colonel."

"I know," Morgan said. "But someone needs to snap him out of his guilt-trip. Okay, coffee break's over. I want a full report on the current actions of each individual member of the Sinister Six."

"Make that five, Colonel!" Special Agent Joshua Ballard rushed in the room, waving a file in the air.

"Ballard! What've you got for me?"

"It's Venom, sir."

Morgan read the file fast, and he handed it to Deeley. "I can't have Spider-Man chasing a lunatic who only has one hostage. I need him ready for another situation that involves several hundred hostages, like on the Brooklyn Bridge."

"What's that, Colonel?" Spider-Man had apparently walked into the room and nobody noticed.

"Venom has a hostage, just a single hostage."

Spider-Man snatched the file. "The hostage was able to make a 911 call. Who is it?"

"It's definately a woman. The call was made from her home in Forrest Hills, Queens."

Spider-Man lowered the file. "What?"

"We're not sure what Venom wants with her, but--"

"I do," Spider-Man said. "I need transport to Queens. Now."

"Spider-Man, as I said, I need you ready for--"

_"Now,"_ Spider-Man stopped the Colonel. After a few moments of silence, Spider-Man darted out the room and tried to find the aircar chambers himself.

Deeley cocked his head, waiting for orders. "Uh, Colonel...?"

Morgan snapped. "He knows what he's doing--_or he better._ Get him on the ground now."

The room was cleared, and Morgan was left alone. He slammed his fist on the desk. _Spider-Man! He creates his own problems!_ Morgan thought. _He wonders why he doesn't have any friends on the NYPD, he wonders why he can't be trusted! He does whatever he wants to! He doesn't take orders, he cracks jokes when straight answers will do, and he has the lowest self-esteem I have ever seen in my life! You'd think a guy like that wouldn't need reminding of how good he's done this city, but he constantly needs to be told that everything is not his fault! Ugh, Spider-Man, you better know what you are doing! _


	20. In The Subway

Where he was leading her was still a mystery, and she could not gather up the courage to ask. All she knew was that Eddie Brock was walking with her down the street, his hood up and his grip around her arm so tight that a simple flex could break it. Mary Jane acted normal. That's all she could do.

"I don't know why you called the cops, Red. This could've been easy."

She glared at him. "Easy? _Easy?_ Not one _second _of this day has been easy, Eddie! You know my husband's biggest secret, and he lets you be. He hasn't hunted you down, blackmailed you, sworn you to secrecy. But you--just because you're a selfish, evil monster, you decide to take it out on him!"

"You think you understand how the line between good and evil is drawn, do ya? You got a lot to learn about this whole superhuman gig." He lugged her with him as he turned a corner. They were headed downtown.

"And, for the record, _Brock,_ Peter's pictures were always better than yours."

Brock flinched at that. The memories of his trying times at the _Daily Bugle _were not taken lightly. He turned another corner, and then Mary Jane found herself forced down the stairs to the subway station. Underground. With a dangerous psycopath. Not good.

Mary Jane tired to pry herself free, but it was no use. Brock was just as strong as Peter--strong_er_, probably. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"Keep quiet."

"No! Help! _Help!"_ she cried out. She kicked at him and squealed. She took her hand and dug her nails into his skin. He grabbed his own hand and flung her to the ground. When she looked up, standing in front of her was a black-suited monster. Venom had submerged.

"That...was a mistake."

"Please, Eddie. Don't do this."

A slimly alien tentacle formed and smacked the ground where Mary Jane had been crouching before she rolled away. She kept moving, hiding behind colums that lined the station. "Aw, come on Red. Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Suddenly a red boot blocked Venom's vision. He flew sideways into a wall. _"Tag!"_

Mary Jane was afraid to, but she peeked out to see what had happend. She breathed, "Peter."

Spider-Man was fighting Venom. Mary Jane had seen her husband in action before, but not recently. She was frozen in place, unable to speak or do anything but watch. She felt someone grab her, and she shrieked. It was a man in some sort of uniform. There were a lot of others with him.

"Ma'am, I am Special Agent Doug Deeley. We are with SAFE, and we are working with Spider-Man. We will escort you to safety. Okay?"

She nodded.

"You have to remain silent and do everything we tell you to."

Again, she nodded. Mary Jane bent down, ducking from flying debris from a wall, and ran up the stairs with some of the agents. The entire time she looked at Spider-Man. The entire time, he was thinking of her. But he had to remain fouced; Venom was not kidding around.

"I knew you'd show up, Webs!"

"You crossed the line, Venom!"

Spider-Man threw a punch, but missed and recieved a counter attack to his stomach. He jumped, grabbed a column, swung himself around and kicked out at Venom's chest. The villain stumbled backwards. "I am going to break you so bad, they won't even be able to do an autopsy."

"That one's new. Not your usual super-villain rant. And not a single spleen in it. Good for you, you're moving up in the world."

Venom stopped and looked around. SAFE agents were lining the perimeter, getting ready to fire. The girl was gone. Spider-Man was here. He had lost the advantage. He needed to escape--if Spider-Man didn't get him, the agents with guns would. He grabbed at the wall, pulled it out, and launched it towards Spider-Man and the agents. Spider-Man shot two weblines at the incoming wall, spun it and made it land away from the agents. When he looked back at Venom he already was headed down the tunnel.

"Spider-Man, stop!" Deeley called after him as he went to follow. "We need you topside! We'll go after Venom."

Spider-Man simply nodded and fired a web towards the stairs. He lugged himself towards them and surfaced. Waiting for him were a bunch of NYPD cars, an ambulance, and, of course, Mary Jane. She was sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, being treated, though her injuries were more emotional than anything else. Spider-Man walked up to her.

"Are you okay, ma'am."

"Yes, Spider-Man. Thank you." She could see her breath in the form of a puff of cold smoke. Her nose was red, too. She seemed to have frostbite.

"Did he hurt you? Did he do anything--"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Spider-Man. " Mary Jane said. She got up and wrapped her arms around him. She whispered in his ear, "Be safe."

"Thank God you're okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

They pulled away from one another. All Mary Jane wanted to do was to tell Spider-Man to go home, this very instant, grab a cup of coffee, and meet her in bed to watch re-runs of Seinfeld. But she sighed, looking at him longingly. The silence between them brought the seemingly strangers closer together.

"Spider-Man! Come in, Spider-Man!" Colonel Morgan was buzzing in his ear. Spider-Man reached for his mike with his frozen arm.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Only three people are reported dead from hypothermia on the Brooklyn Bridge. You did good, kid."

"Three people dead isn't my idea of good."

There was a short silence. "Deeley has me updated on the Venom situation. He's still searching the subways for him. You're speaking with the hostage?"

"I'm lookin' right at her."

"Well, say goodbye. We need you mobile!"

"Roger that." Spider-Man said. He looked at Mary Jane. "I'm really glad you're okay, miss. I have to go. But these fine paramedics are going to help you, okay?"

She nodded. She watched as her husband swung off into the city in his famous tights. She mumbled to herself, "Go get 'em, tiger."


	21. Central Park

Spider-Man was so relieved to know that Mary Jane was okay. Venom was gone, and she was safe. She was safe.

"Give me an update, Colonel. And, please make it a good one."

"So far I have no confirmed arrests. Venom is being chased in the subways. The Vulture is being pursued as we speak. Mysterio and Electro dissapeared. The Chameleon and Octavius' locations are currently unknown."

"How many reported deaths do we have?" Spider-Man asked, leaping over the gap that was Times Square. That jump seemed impossible. It probably was. But with people like Spider-Man on days like today, you had to expect the impossible.

"Eighteen total. Considering how bad this thing could have gotten, Spider-Man, I'd say we got off lucky."

"Eighteen people dead is _not_ lucky. And it's not over."

"You don't need to remind _us,_ Spider-Man. We--wait a second. We have activity in Central Park. That place mean anything to you?"

Spider-Man altered his route, heading to the specified location. "A few gang fights and muggings. Nothing Day of Terror worthy."

"I'm having my team do a search."

Spider-Man jumped down ten feet onto a rooftop, then he leaped into the air and spun a webline. A few moments of silence passed, and in those seconds Spider-Man got this eerie feeling. This entire _day _was all about him, and his mistakes, and things he wished he could do over. And each spot the Six decided to attack was just another wound reopened.

"Terri Kidder. Ring a bell?"

Spider-Man swallowed. Yes, it did. "She worked for the _Bugle_," he said to the Colonel.

"Yeah, I'm reading her file now. Poor kid."

Terri Kidder was a journalist for the _Daily Bugle_ only for a short period of time. When she still didn't have a great story for the paper and the deadline was approaching, Terri was afraid she'd be out of a job. Then something interesting at Oscorp sent her in that direction--apparently employees were going missing and such. She confronted the company's leader himself, Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn, who was later discovered to be the Green Goblin, murdered Kidder when she started snooping around and dumped her mangaled body in a pond. The pond in Central Park.

"This one is uncalled for. You weren't even involved."

"Like they're playing fair now?" Spider-Man said. "Okay, Morgan. Who am I lookin' for?"

The Colonel cleared his throat. "Octavius, Chameleon--dressed as the Green Goblin to mess with you, we suspect--and the Vulture."

"I thought you were pursuing the Vulture."

"We were. During the chase the Vulture decided to dive out of view. My men were chasing a hologram set up by Mysterio for fifteen minutes. They had the whole thing planned."

"Oh great. They decided to be smart today."

"They're criminal _masterminds_, Spider-Man. Of course they're smart."

"Well, maybe not Electro...hey, any sign of the Sparkplug lately?"

"Negative." Morgan replied.

Spider-Man picked up speed. "Central Park is in sight."

"Okay. You know where to find them?"

"Not exactly," he said. "But I'm sure they'll find me."


	22. Near The Pond

When Spider-Man heard screams, he knew he was there. It was hard to swing in Central Park--mostly because the only thing for his webs to latch onto were trees, and they were too low. So he leaped. And he ran. The pond where Terri Kidder's body was discovered was just down this winding path that was a favorite spot of morning joggers.

Spider-Man jumped off a bridge, landing on the road that ran underneath it, and took a shortcut. He arrived at the pond within three minutes. There were no crazy super villains to be seen. He walked closer to the water. He peered in, and then leaped on instinct. The water was cold and disgusting, but he stayed focused. Seconds later Spider-Man dragged a young woman out of the pond. He lay her on the grass and felt for a pulse. He kept feeling for one, but could not find it because she did not have one. She was dead.

Spider-Man crouched beside the dark-haired woman and started CPR, but was interrupted by laughter. He didn't move from the woman's side. He looked around in the surrounding bushes and trees. "Don't even bother, Spider-Man! She's been dead for a few good hours!"

_That voice_... Spider-Man thought.

The Green Goblin appeared from the brush._ "Gotcha!" _

Spider-Man lunged, his body running on pure hate. He grabbed for his throat. "Norman! I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna--" he ripped the Goblin mask from the wearer and saw, staring right back up at him, Norman Osborn. But that was not Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn...was dead. The man started laughing. "Spooky, huh? I haunt every waking moment of your life, Spider-Man! I killed Terri Kidder, I killed Gwen Stacy--"

"Shut up!" Spider-Man hollered. "Don't you dare say another word about Gwen, you hear me? You knew I loved her! I loved her!"

"Spider-Man! Stop! That is not Norman Osborn! It's the Chameleon! We spoke about this!" The Colonel's voice shouted in his ear. But he didn't care. Gwen's killer was right there._ He killed Gwen, _he told himself_. He took her from you. Gwen is dead. Gwen is gone. Gwen is not coming back._

At this point Spider-Man was crying under his mask. He held the Chameleon's throat in his two hands. _How easy it would be to crush it. Snap it. Kill him. He deserve it, doesn't he? Look at what he was doing now. Killing her. Killing them. Killing anyone he possibly can. Killing me._

Spider-Man gasped, as if awakening from a bad dream. He looked at his hands around the Chameleon's neck, and he let go and back away, staring at them as if they were some dangerous machine. The Chameleon's face had changed now, into a plain white, featureless form. He looked confused. He looked scared. He grabbed his own neck, where the pressure had been hurting him. _ I thought he was gonna kill me. _The Chameleon thought._Why didn't he do it?_

Spider-Man looked at him. "I don't kill people." he said. "I'm not like you. You're under arrest, pal."

"Not so fast, Spider-Man!" Doctor Octavius emerged from the back, his metal arms wailing in the air. The Vulture landed next to the Chameleon, who was still on the grass.

"Oh look, the three Powerpuff girls. Which one of you is Bubble?--she's my favorite."

Octavius snarled. "Toomes, get the Chameleon out of here. He is wounded and is useless now. No offense, my friend, but your specialty is not in the area of combat."

The Vulture followed the orders given to him, and he picked the man up with his two hands and started off into the city. The entire time, the Chameleon did not take his eyes off Spider-Man.

"How has the day been to you so far? I believe the death count is nineteen now."

"Shut your mouth, Octavius! You make me sick. I am tired of playing these stupid games! You're just a fatboy who never grew up."

He didn't care about the comment. "I do not wish to fight you now, Spider-Man, for I fear I may kill you. And your life is not miserable enough yet for you to be taken away from it."

"What more can you take from me, Ock? How many more have to die in order for me to get it? 'Cuz I get it! I get it! I screwed up in the past, yeah. People died because of me. I know! I get it."

"I have one more location in mind for you, Spider-Man. Prepare for the battle of your life." And then he started to move away.

"Come back here, you fat, stupid, four-eyed--" but he stopped. Octavius was serious about not fighting at this moment. Spider-Man went to follow him, but Octavius swiped a metal arm at him and cut him across the forehead. He staggered backwards, feeling the blood pour out, feeling faint. Everything started spinning, his eyes burned, the pain so intense.

He buzzed in through his mike. "Uh...guys...losing blood...loosing..." and then the darkness took over from there.


	23. Medical Attention

When Spider-Man opened his eyes all he could see were colorful, fuzzy blurs. He tired to move, but found he was strapped down to the table. _Leather straps. Psh,_ he thought. _I could break those easily. I just don't feel like it. My head is killing me. _

He didn't know where he was, but he was not happy with the fact that he was strapped down. He just relaxed, laying flat on his back, and breathed. It was nice, relaxing. It was good to take a break from fighting megalomaniacs that wanted to kill you every once and a while.

When his vision started to clear, a woman walked in the room. She was a doctor. She was a tall, black woman with long dark hair. She went to check Spider-Man's heart rate when he convulsed intentionally, scaring her. He smiled. "Hiya, doc. Mind telling me what's going on here?"

"You're in the SAFE Hellicarrier, Spider-Man. You are being well taken care of. We had to give you a few stitches, but you should be fine. We covered your face with a sheet, so we only saw what was necessary." She said.

Spider-Man nodded and motioned at the straps. "So, you wanna do the honors? I'd break 'em, but I figured I'd save you some money."

The doctor smiled and went to unstrap him. That was when the doors opened and a steaming New York Police Commissioner Wilson Ramos barged inside. Colonel Morgan and Special Agent Doug Deeley were in close pursuit. Spider-Man felt stupid, strapped down to a table in front of this man who was obviously no friend of his.

"One more move, Commissioner, and I'll have you put in a holding cell!"

"Nice threat. But that doesn't change anything. I--"

Spider-Man had had enough. He thrust himself upwards, breaking the straps. The buckles went flying off the table as he stood. "What's goin' on?"

"Commissioner Ramos here ran down to the medical center as soon as he heard you were being treated. He wants to arrest you and unmask you!" The Colonel said. "But I will not have it. Spider-Man is a guest here, Ramos. And his privacy is respected. Now get the hell out!"

"As New York Police Commissioner, I have the right--"

"The right? You have no right here, Commissioner! No right at all! Not in _my _Hellicarrer. Now get the hell out!"

Ramos snorted but did as he was told. "I'll get you one day, Wallcrawler."

Spider-Man fought the impulse to give the Commissioner a very rude gesture. He looked at the Colonel. "I owe you guys. Again."

"Oh, I am not done with you, Spider-Man! I still have a bone to pick with you! First off, _never _keep me in the dark again. When I heard you used a hang-glider to get to the bridge, I had a fit! And directly ignoring me to go chase Venom? This will_ never_ happen again, _understood?"  
_

"I don't work for you, Colonel."

"Spider-Man, nineteen people are dead. _Nineteen._ And if you don't follow my orders, that number will get a hell of a lot higher. I need you to cooperate."

Spider-Man grunted. "I'm wearing this stupid throat-mike, aren't I?"

"Spider-Man," Deeley said.

"Fine. Now, Octavius said there was one last place they were gonna hit. So at least this nightmare is almost over. Where are our possibilities?"

"My team's running a search now. Anything I can get you?" Deeley asked.

Spider-Man nodded. "Coffee."

Morgan moaned. "More caffeine? You and caffeine are a big no-no."

"I can handle caffeine. What am I, a teenager?"

"You sure as hell act like it." Morgan mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Go get your coffee. You two meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. Got it?"

"Consider it got, Colonel." Spider-Man nodded. He and Doug Deeley were left alone in the medical room, aside from the doctor who was ordering a new set of leather straps. "Who knows," Spider-Man said. "I may be home in time to watch _Desperate Housewives."_


	24. Engine Room

Mask rolled up just above his upper lip, Spider-Man sat down sipping his coffee in Colonel Sean Morgan's office. Doug Deeley sat in a chair right beside him, his muscles tense and ready for action. Colonel Morgan was on the phone. Spider-Man found it very rude, but hell, what did he know about how secret spy organizations ran things?

Colonel Morgan, to keep the hero busy, threw him a copy of the latest edition of the _Daily Bugle_. Spider-Man wondered why he did that. Was it to torture him with Jameson's slander? Was it a sick joke? Could Morgan even joke?

Spider-Man remembered standing on the building those few nights ago. It seemed like an eternity, since all this Day of Terror business started, anyway. He took another large gulp of his coffee and opened up to an editorial by J. Jonah Jameson.

_"Today has been declared the Day of Terror by a group of evil masterminds known as the Sinister Six. And why is our precious city under attack? For one reason, and one reason only: Spider-Man. If this glory-hog never even started lying to people in the first place, then those other people wouldn't have died when he 'failed'. And then today wouldn't have happened. Yes, those who believe that Spider-Man isn't a fraud argue that Spider-Man saved more people than has let people die--and I argue back, how do you know?"_

Jameson's ranting, one-sided opinion kept going, but Spider-Man decided to stop. Morgan hung up the phone. Spider-Man threw the paper back on his desk. "Way to help boost my morale, Morgan."

He didn't reply. "Possible locations list, right here. You tell me where you think they'll target next."

Spider-Man took the list, reading it and trying to go back in time. _All these people...dead? There are so many..._

"Spider-Man?"

He was awoken from his chance. "They all hold the same pain, and the Six know that. They'll just do whatever's convenient for themselves."

Deeley nodded. "That's what makes them so damn unpredictable."

"Speaking of unpredictable..." said a very deep voice. Spider-Man turned around. He jumped up, ready to attack. Was he insane? Was he nuts?

Venom grinned, holding the three hostages tightly with his black, alien tentacles. "We know what you're thinking. And yes, we so totally did."

"What the hell are you doing, Brock?" Spider-Man asked. He glanced at the others quickly. They had their plasma-guns drawn.

Venom laughed. "For a high-tech base, this place really isn't that secure, is it? 'Course, the real trouble was gettin' in here...oh, and I see your hand, Colonel. Half your team is either dead, unconsious, or unarmed. So go ahead. Call them."

Morgan, who's hand was on a red "call" button underneath his desk, pressed it quickly, but tried to hide his action by moving closer. "Let the hostages go."

"If you insist..." Venom took one of the hostages--a young woman with golden hair, and threw her through a window. Spider-Man leaped over and spun a dozen different weblines, trying to catch her as she fell closer and closer to the East River. But he couldn't reach her, she was falling too fast.

"Eddie..." Spider-Man said in disbelief.

Venom grinned. "Twenty." He said, mocking the death-count today had ranked in.

Deeley held his weapon firmly. "What do you want?"

Venom pointed to Spider-Man. "You're blood on the wall."

"That's a pretty image," Spider-Man said. And then Venom jumped, and it began.

Spider-Man rolled out of the way, crashing through Morgan's office doors and down the hall. He felt the ground shake as Venom's bulking frame chased after him.

"Spider-Man! Spider-Man! Venom has weaknesses to fire and sonics!"

"Yeah, I know that. I've only fought this guy since, like, ever!" he panted, dodging being whipped by a tentacle. _Spider-sense comes in handy..._

"Head over to the engine room! The loud noises may be one of the only ways to take him out in the Hellicarrier!"

Spider-Man nodded. "How the heck do I get there?"

"It's on the bottom floor. Get there first."

Spider-Man saw a stairwell and dove. He crashed through the door, rolled down the stairs, and ran right back up without stopping. Venom jumped the railing, coming at him full force. "Morgan, where are you and Deeley?"

"Checking on the crew. I have five of my finest dead. He didn't kill them all, like he said. My smart guys played dead. We're armed with sonic-canons. Headed your way."

Spider-Man yelled out in pain as Venom's long nails dug into his skin and tore off a chunk of flesh. "Hurry!" He jumped with a warning from his spider-sense, and a tentacle cracked the ground where he had just been. Spider-Man ignored the pain coming from his wounded shoulder. He keep racing down the stairs, only seconds ahead of Venom.

"We'll rip out your spleen and--"

"And you'll eat it for dessert or whatever. I know, you told me!" Spider-Man shouted back. He slipped on one of the stairs and fell again, tumbling down, down down...

Spider-Man smacked face-first into a door. It read: basement level. Spider-Man buzzed into Morgan to ask if it was right.

"Yep, the engine room is down there. My team's five stories above you."

"Good to know." Spider-Man said, jumping through the doorway. The basement was dark and damp and icky-feeling, but Spider-Man focused. _The engine room...engine room..._

Spider-Man was kicked from behind, and the force flew him forward about ten feet into another door. He was crashing into a lot of those lately. He looked at the sign. It read "engine room". "Oh. How convenient. Hey, Colonel. I'm here. Big, heavy metal door...it's locked! I--wait a tick..." Spider-Man timed it just right.Venom went to jump and tackle Spider-Man. But Spider-Man ducked out of the way and he crashed into the door, denting it and knocking it off its hinges. Spider-Man rushed in to find Venom leaning against a smoking machine. It was bent and misshapen. _The engine! _

It started making low rumbling noises. Before Spider-Man knew what was really going on, it exploded.


	25. Awakening

_Oh. I__ passed out,_ Spider-Man thought as he opened his eyes._ I've being doing that a lot lately. _He moaned out in pain, as his head and various other ligaments were throbbing. His vision was not as sharp as it was normally, and he was pretty sure the room was spinning, but he decided to sit himself up. As he went to do so, he found his wrists and ankles strapped down to the metal table, as they had been earlier in the medical center. But these straps were a thick, hard metal. He debated in his head whether he could break them or not. He chose not, since has was tired and weak and in agonizing pain.

He whistled, bored. He yawned, looked around. The room was very similar to the one he had been in previously. Hopefully no crazy, Spidey-hating Police Commissioners would barge in this time. Finally Spider-Man couldn't entertain himself any longer. He wanted aspirin and off the table.

A black woman walked inside--the same doctor as before, Spider-Man noticed.

"Heya, doc. Metal straps?" he commented.

She didn't turn from the counter. "You broke my leather ones, remember?"

"Touché." Then, after a time of pure silence, he asked, "Can I get some details? What happened to the engine? To Venom? To _me?"_

"Colonel Morgan will give you all the details. I will let him know you're up and awake."

"Can you unstrap me? This table is cold."

"The Colonel ordered me not to do so." she said as he reached for a phone that was hanging on the wall.

He exhaled. "Next time get a warmer table."

The doctor pressed a speed-dial number and spoke into the phone. "Yes, sir. He is awake. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. See you soon, sir." She hung the phone into the receiver mounted on the wall. "He will be down as soon as he can, Spider-Man."

"That's great and all that, but can I get some aspirin?"

She smiled and nodded, preparing some pills out on the counter. She said once the Colonel arrived he could take them. Spider-Man eyed the blue pill. It looked really good. He actually wanted to take it so badly that he attempted to break the restraints around his wrists that stuck him to the table. It didn't work out so well for him.

Colonel Morgan arrived, but he did not order for Spider-Man to be untied immediately. He stared at the masked face for a long time before saying anything. He said, "you owe me a new engine."

"You're kidding right? Okay, once I'm done stopping the Sinister Six from killing more people on this glorious Day of Terror dedicated to killing me and random innocent people, then yeah, I'll buy you a new frickin' engine."

Morgan smiled. "I was kidding."

Spider-Man flinched. "Out of any, now is the time you choose to get a sense of humor."

"I'm glad you're okay, Spider-Man. I thought you were dead. No normal human being can survive an engine explosion."

"Yeah," Spider-Man said. "Mind telling me how I did it?"

Morgan motioned for the doctor to unlock his cuffs, then said, "There is no sign of Venom anywhere. Considering he was closer to the engine, and the fact that the alien suit has a weakness to fire, we don't know if he could have made it. You, on the other hand, quickly cocooned yourself in a wad of that thick webbing of yours. It was somewhat flame-resistant, surprisingly. The force of the explosion knocked you through a wall--two, to be exact. We found you unconscious and burnt. And _alive."_

Spider-Man took the pills quickly. "That's nice. Two walls, huh? Do I owe you that, too?"

"We need you on the ground, Spider-Man. Are you ready?"

"I was born ready!" he smiled, walking out of the medical room. And as he left the doctor heard him tell the Colonel, "you guys need to get warmer tables!" 


	26. Biding Time

It felt good to be on solid ground--and not Hellicarrier ground, but actually earth ground. Spider-Man was tempted to kiss it. But he didn't want to bend down--his back was stiff from the cold table.

"You stay in motion, get your blood pumping. The Six said there was one last place to attack. It's gonna be big."

"Thanks for reminding me," Spider-Man moaned back at the Colonel. "Any ideas where it'll be?"

"Negative."

"Swell..."

The two stood on top of the SAFE Times Square office building,the Colonel's breath visible in puffs of vapor as it entered the air. It was snowing; the start of the season's first blizzard. Spider-Man did not appreciate the fact that not only the Sinister Six were against him, but Mother Nature too. "Spider-Man," the Colonel said. "Good luck."

"Yeah. Thanks. You too."

"And, whatever happens--we know you're one of the good guys."

Spider-Man nodded and jumped off into the city without another word. He was bombarded with screams from civilians, all screaming things that sounded like one giant, "We love you, Spidey!" Spider-Man smiled under his mask. He wanted to shout back, but he didn't have the time, plus it was somewhat unprofessional. _Well, since when have I ever been professional?_

Suddenly a winter wind blew, piercing through Spider-Man's skin. He shivered, realizing he'd get frostbite if he didn't keep moving and keeping his heart pumping. But, before doing so, he decided to take a little detour. Detours like this were described with one cliche: _Desperate times call for desperate measures._

His desperate measure? Buying coffee.

Spider-Man rarely made himself among the public, but it was cold and he was cold and he really wanted a Starbucks. He stopped at the first store he saw, a few blocks from Radio City, and popped inside. A little ring signaled his arrival as he opened the door. At first no one else paid him any mind. Then someone noticed, and their eyes went wide. Spider-Man, not anxious to get back outside to the freezing temperatures, waited on line in the pleasant, room-temperature store.

The man standing on the line next to him whispered, "Uh...are you really Spider-Man?"

Spider-Man didn't look at the man; he just keep his head straight."Yep."

"Isn't today the Day of Terror?"

"Yep."

"Shouldn't you be out stopping the Sinister Six?"

Spider-Man turned to look at the man now. "Coffee break."

As Spider-Man reached the counter and ordered a pipping-hot cup of coffee, he told the woman that he had no money. She told him she was sorry, but someone had to pay.

"Does saving the world count as anything anymore?" he asked. "Okay, hold on a second." He buzzed into his throat-mike. Deeley picked up on the other end. "Deeley! I need you to do something for me! Don't ask questions, this is a serious situation!"

"What is it?" he asked, his voice showing concern.

"What is Morgan's credit card number?"

"What?"

"Deeley!"

"Okay, okay!"

Spider-Man sniggered under his mask. He recited the card number to the woman and left the store. It was still freezing out. Spider-Man did not like freezing.

That was when Morgan buzzed in. "Spider-Man, I don't even want to _ask _what you wanted with my credit card number."

He swallowed a gulp of coffee. "Then don't."

"Spider-Man, we have the last location the Six are attacking."

"Where?"

"The_ Daily Bugle." _


	27. Entering

"The Daily Bugle has always been the site of Spider-Man's greatest failure: his reputation. Here lies his dreams of glory and fame, dead and buried as he will be soon enough. Here is where the road to Spider-Man's life as an outcast all started. And here, here it ends."

Spider-Man read the note a second, and then third time. He noticed there were no signatures--none were needed. Colonel Morgan stood beside him in the freezing snow outside the Daily Bugle building. Police officers and uniformed SAFE agents lined the area, as well as a crowd that gathered to try and catch a glimpse of the action.

"They said they'll start killing the hostages as soon as anyone other than you walks in."

"They have hostages? They're letting me walk in?"

Colonel Morgan nodded. "Unknown number of hostages on the tenth-floor city room. And yes, they are allowing you to walk in through the front door--as long as you're not wearing the communicator we gave you."

"Are you serious?"

He didn't respond. Doug Deeley walked up beside Spider-Man, who was staring blankly at the tenth-floor window. It was so dark inside...

"Spider-Man, I want you to know we have four fulls teams ready to run in as soon as possible."

"Thanks."

And after a long period of pure silence, Spider-Man reached under his mask and placed the mike in Deeley's hand. He took a deep breath, and headed for the door. He felt all eyes on him as he walked, leaving footprints in the snow. The only thing that was going through his mind was It's over...it's almost over. The last spot...the lat one...

He wrapped his hand around the handle to the door and he pulled, expecting the members of the Six to come charging at him. He braced himself. But no...silence. He poked his head in, looked around, and then walked inside and shut the door. Even though the lights were off, he instantly took to the shadows. He was quiet, waiting for his spider-sense to give him some sort of clue. Nothing happened. Nothing stirred. It was almost like he had never been in this place before, even though his alter ego Peter Parker went several times a week as the paper's photographer. But this building was nothing like it's normal self: papers were scattered everywhere, furniture was broken, holes were in the walls, blood was on the floor.

Spider-Man didn't swear often, but the only thing he could say was, "Damn..."

A/N: sorry for the short entires lately! I hate cramming and I don't have time for long updates. I'm working on it though!


	28. Once Inside

Back when they had started to realize life was complicated, Mary Jane had asked Peter a very drilling question. "How do you go out there, knowing who you're facing? How do you go fight these people?"

"Gee, I dunno, Red," was his initial response. But when he saw his wife's face, he said, "Well. I do what actors do, kinda--picture the audience in their underpants."

"It helps you to picture Doctor Octavius in his underwear?"

He winced. "Okay. Classically bad example. But I just focus on what makes each of these guys idiots. With Venom, it's his obsession with spleens. With Ock it's his ego. With Electro it's his IQ--which probably doesn't even exist. But if I can focus on that I forget to be afraid and do what needs to be done."

And, as Spider-Man stood in the hallway he willingly entered knowing six megalomaniacs were waiting for their turn to kill him, this is exactly what he tried to do. He wondered if the Chameleon was inside? Or Venom--last time he saw him was in the subway? Toomes would most likely be inside. But what about Mysterio? Did he recover and rejoin the group? Great. Spider-Man didn't know who was inside, which meant he was in for a few surprises. He did not appreciate surprises on days like this.

There were four sets of stairs in the building, and Spider-Man went up each one halfway to test his spider-sense. He started to climb the last set, as he had gotten no warning about this area of the building. He realized then that he had no idea what he was doing. Kill the Six? No, he wasn't a murderer. Let the Six kill him? Yeah. Like that'd happen. No, he had to find those hostages. That was what he had to do.

He hunched down low as he entered an office room filled with various cubicles. He crawled inside one, to take cover. As he did so he ducked under the desk and took a pen and a yellow sticky note. He wrote on the note, "If I wind up dead, tell Mary Jane I love her." and he stuffed it down his boot. He dropped the pen, took a deep breath, and stood up from his hiding spot.

What he saw was not an average room in an office building. It was a valley...no, a cemetery. He could feel the rain falling down...who died? Spider-Man walked over, in awe. He peeked at the gravestone, then backed away and almost tripped. The tomb read, "Here Lies The Not-So-Amazing Spider-Man." He shook his head. It was Mysterio with his illusions again. His crazy illusions...

Which meant Mysterio was here.

"Nice trick, Mysterio!" Spider-Man yelled out.

"Thank you! I think so myself!" Mysterio's voice echoed.

"But, come on--a simple gravestone? At least make these things more realistic! I'd have a whole temple dedicated to me!"

"Once I'm done with you, you won't even get a jar full of your ashes, 'cause there won't be anything left to burn."

And suddenly the funeral scene fled, and Mysterio lunged at Spider-Man from seemingly nowhere.The good 'ol spider-sense kicked in, and Spider-Man bent backwards, his belly facing the ceiling, as he watched Mysterio fly right over him. Mysterio crashed through a wall, and Spider-Man followed. He was then kicked in the throat by a a strong boot- the Vulture, who had been circling the area. Spider-Man knew he had the advantage there--there was no room for the Vulture to fly.

"Heya, Vulchie! Haven't seen you since you gave Chameleon the air lift!"

The Vulture pinned his wings to his side, spinning as he flew in the air, his bald, shiny head aiming towards Spider-Man's chest. Spider-Man jumped up, and as soon as the Vulture was directly beneath him, he slammed down on his back. Spider-sense warned him of another danger, and he titled his head to the side rapidly to avoid being decapitated by a metal arm.

Octavius. Yay.

Spider-Man thought in his head: Mysterio. Octopus. Vulture. Who's missing?

Then came a blast of electricity, blowing through the wall.

Right. Electro. So that's four...all I'm missing is Venom and Chameleon--who are God knows where.

Spider-Man jumped onto a desk and looked at all his enemies, crowding before him with evil grins. "Swell," he said, and leaped.

_**A/N: Thank you to EVERYONE who has been reviewing, but a special thanks to Russe F. Topher who, if I'm not mistaken, reviewed all the chapters in, like, one day. And also, thanks to VHunter, and everyone else I'll leave unnamed, for there are too many. But really--thank you all so much. You do not go unnoticed! **_


	29. Death Coming

As Spider-Man leaped into the throng of villains waiting to kill him, the first thing to strike his mind was, _Wait..why did I just jump_ towards _them?_ So he flipped and shot a webline to change his direction, bouncing off a wall and then heading through the hole that Electro's currents had created. He knew that he'd be dead if he faced them all at the same time. He needed a way to separate them.

So Spider-Man saw Mysterio heading towards the stairwell, and he decided to go after him. Electro fired electricity towards him as he leaped, creating a large hole in the wall. Spider-Man jumped off the falling concrete and through the newly-made hole, running as fast as he could as electricity blasted holes through the floor. He dove towards the door that led to the stairwell, crashing through it as his spider-sense warned him that if he did not dive, he would be fried by Electro's blasts.

Spider-Man jumped up and looked around the stairwell, which was seemingly not a stairwell at all. It was a jungle...a dark, dangerous jungle. Spider-Man heard the growls of jaguars and the screams of monkeys. He smelled the dampness after a long rain, and he saw the mist that surrounded him and everything else.

"Hey, Mysterio--did Kraven give you this idea? It'd be home-sweet-home to him!" Spider-Man laughed, not at all impressed by his illusions anylonger. He waited, but this time there was no reply. He shrugged. "Fine, be that way."

Suddenly his spider-sense warned him of danger, and he ducked down low on the floor and felt something narrowly miss his head. He reached for whatever it was that had caused the warning--a spear. "You're really going for this whole Tarzan-thing, huh?" He said. "Where'd you steal this prop from? It'd sell for millions on EBay if it'd had actually killed me. Nice try, though. You need to work on your aim."

"How's _this!?"_ Another spear came at him from the darkness beyond, and he dodged it with the help of his spider-sense. He flipped forward towards the ground, rolled, and slid across the floor until he found Mysterio. He knocked the master of illusion down with a hard kick to the ankles. Spider-Man felt Mysterio land beside him, as the illusionist had not lifted the darkness yet, and he started to beat him while he was down.

At first it was the routine good-guy versus bad-guy beating. But then the punches got harder. And the rush came. And Spider-Man realized that this man had helped kill so many innocents. And he couldn't stop himself.

When the lights came back on, Spider-Man found his fists cut and bleeding with broken glass. Mysterio's helment was broken and shattered. The man inside had a black eye, bloody nose, and was unconscious. Spider-Man stood, looking down at the body. He had almost killed him. It would have been so easy to...it was at times like these when Spider-Man realized how simple it would be to go to the dark side.

"Taking a rest, Spider-Man? Let me help you take one--permanently!" Said the Vulture's screeching voice. Spider-Man jumped down the stairs as the crazy old man in the green bird suit swooped down, his talons grabbing for Spider-Man's throat. Spider-Man dodged the attack easily, even though there was little room to maneuver. He knew that this was the place to subdue the Vulture.

Spider-Man watched as the Vulture flew downwards, searching for Spider-Man who was sticking to the bottom of the stairs above. When the Vulture was below, Spider-Man leaped onto his back. The Vulture went into a frenzy as Spider-Man manuevered him, crashing him into many walls. Eventually the Vulture broke through one, and Spider-Man jumped off to watch the Vulture try to regain control of his flight path, which ended miserably as he crashed through another wall and ended up outside in the city. He heard people scream and shout. Shots were fired. The Vulture went down, spiraling.

"Wow, that was easy," Spider-Man commented out loud. "Okay. Two down--"

He heard noise. Death coming. "Four to go."

**_A/N: thank you for your reviews, and also for sending me all those lovely PMs! I honestly love getting messages from you guys, and I always respond, by the way. Thank you so much, really._**


	30. Lighting A Fire

Spider-Man did not like being an easy target. And, as his enemies were approaching all too fast for him to make it to a different room, he jumped out of a window.

He was greeted by cheers and shouts, but he paid no attention to it. He stuck out his hand and caught the side of the building, and then he started to climb. He made his way up, up, heading to the tenth floor where the hostages were being held.

He scaled the building in such speed that, looking back on himself, even Spider-Man would be impressed. He looked up at the tenth-story window and thought, _Wow. I just might make it._

It was then that a long, metal tentacle crashed through the window from the inside, and grabbed Spider-Man's ankle. He screamed out as the metal arm smashed him against exterior of the building. The impact was was intense that bricks became loose and tumbled down to the ground. The tentacle then pulled Spider-Man back inside through a window. Glass shattered everywhere and cut through his flesh. Spider-Man was hoisted up above the ground as Doctor Octavius looked into his eyes. He grinned. Spider-Man resisted the urge to lift up his mask and spit in his face.

"Hey, mind putting me down. Ockie-poo? All this blood rushing to my head isn't good for my health."

"You will not need to worry about your health any longer."

Spider-Man pondered. "Was that a joke about you killing me? Because it wasn't funny."

The metal arm them raised Spider-Man in the air and smashed him onto a desk. The legs of the desk broke instantly, and the floor beneath started to crumble. Spider-Man reached around on the desk and found pencils rolling about. He grabbed them and, using all his force, flung himself forward and stabbed Octavius in the chest. The pain caused the metal arms to retract, and Spider-Man fell through the floor along with the desk.

_Phew. That was lucky._

That was when he got an immense surge of pain. He felt the room spin as he cradled his leg. He looked at his leg, and it was completely broken. He swore he could see part of the bone...but then he heard Octavius scream in rage, and he would have to look at his broken leg later.

"I am going to snap your spine in two!" the angry Doctor shouted.

"Uh-huh. Right. The same day Venom eats my spleen and Vulchie drops me fifty stories. _Jeez,_ is that what you people do in your free time? Think of ways to _kill _me?"

"I have thought about this day for years!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I ain't goin' nowhere!" Spider-Man said. He headed for an elevator shaft, the murderous pincers of the tentacles only a step behind him. Spider-Man ducked down, and the pincer reached over his head and crashed into the doors of the elevator mooring. Spider-Man jumped up, kicking Octopus in the head and knocked the door off its hinges. And then he climbed, sticking to the wall, his leg killing him. His spider-sense warned him of danger, and he leaped up into the next elevator dock. He squeezed himself against the wall as an elevator dropped down from the top floor, nearly missing him as it went. He then heard a terrifying yelp, and he guessed the elevator had made contact with Octavius. He looked down, and he saw nothing but a cloud of pure dust and smoke. He saw no one chasing after him, so he supposed Octavius had not been lucky enough to get out of the way in time. _I wonder if that's the last I'll ever see of him. But if he survives, I hope he tells me how he manages it..._

Spider-Man made it to the tenth floor elevator loading dock, and he was afraid to kick open the doors and see what was left of the hostages. He prepared to enter when suddenly his spider-sense warned him of immediate danger. He jumped, followed by an explosion of pure electricity. He heard Electro's cackle.

"What's the matter, Spider-Creep? You don't want to play?"

Spider-Man didn't respond. He was too busy catching his breath. That last one was too close for comfort. After he dropped three stories he swung a web and stuck his feet out, aiming at another set of elevator doors. He kicked them open, flipping and cratering himself through a wall. Electro was not far behind. And Spider-Man knew he could continue running, even with his broken leg. But he'd be fatally slow, and Electro would catch him within seconds. Thinking fast, Spider-Man ran around a corner, ignoring the pain, and grabbed a fire extinguisher from off the wall. He prepared it, aiming straight in front of him. And as soon as Electro turned the very same corner, Spider-Man fired.

As soon as Electro was on the floor, Spider-Man jumped. He knew that that quick relief wouldn't last long. No, he needed something else to stop Electro for more than ten minutes. He jumped down one floor through a crater he suspected Octavius created, and he headed for the desk of Nick Katzenberg. Nick, Spider-Man had learned as his alias Peter Parker, died of lung cancer recently. Hopefully no one cleaned out his desk yet.

Spider-Man ducked, his spider-sense warning him of a weak bolt of lightning. Electro was regaining power. Spider-Man pulled the draws out of the desk and rummaged through them. He threw things over his shoulders that were useless to him. He ducked once again, and Electro's aim was getting better; this one whizzed right over his head. He jumped up again, and finally found what he had been searching for: a lighter.

Grabbing the small orange object, Spider-Man jumped out of the way as Electro fried the desk. "Easy there, Sparkplug! You might hit someone!"

"That's the idea, Wall-Crawler!"

"Oh, really? I thought you were just shooting electricity for fun. Y'know, with your IQ I figured it'd be entertaining."

Electro shouted with rage as he fired. Spider-Man jumped, but narrowly escaped as he felt the electricity only centimeters from his heel. He desperately searched the ceiling. Spider-Man saw what he was looking for, and he acted fast.

As he jumped up towards the ceiling Spider-Man flicked the lighter on. The flame waved in the air. Spider-Man moved the lighter right underneath a fire detector. Quickly the alarm sounded, and the sprinklers were activated. Spider-Man watched as Electro, who was just about to deliver a deadly blow, seized and short-circuited, falling to the floor.

"Oh, so close, too!" Spider-Man said to the shaking body. He stopped, blinked, and took a breather._ I don't hear anyone else coming..._Then there was a bang. _Oh, wait! There they are!_


	31. Outside Of It All

Colonel Sean Morgan stood outside, feezing, beside Special Agent Doug Deeley. The Colonel did not like feeling useless, and, as he stood outside of the_ Bugle_ building with his team, that's exactly how he felt.

There had been no noise from inside the building, which was bad news. Was Spider-Man dead? Already? Was all hope lost? It was impossible to tell. The crowd borded by police still had their hope, though, as they sang the song about Spider-Man, Spider-Man, doing whatever a spider can. Morgan rolled his eyes at the tune, but Deeley hoped that the hostages inside could hear the chant--especially if Jameson was among them.

"Come on, Spider-Man," Morgan said under his breath. "Keep fighting. You're all you've got left."

"Colonel? Are you okay, sir?"

Morgan didn't pay attention to Deeley. He was too focused on everything else. Finally he spoke, "I don't like him."

"Okay..."

"He's immature and he's a smartass. He thinks the rules don't apply to him. He can be a complete idiot. He's got the biggest ego I've seen, yet everytime something goes wrong he needs to be hugged and told that it's not his fault. He doesn't get paid, he gets no credit, and he keeps fighting when any sane person would just lie down and die."

"So, keep fighting, Spider-Man."

Morgan nodded at Deeley's words. "For God's sake, keep fighting."

Suddenly a green blur broke through a glass window, spiraling downwards. Morgan recognized it as the Vulture, and screamed, "open fire!" The Vulture, regaining contorl, laughed as he dodged the bullets, swooping upside-down and disappearing. Morgan growled. Deeley looked at the Colonel. "Should I send a team after him?"

"Half a team," Morgan said. "There's no way that lunatic will be caught. Not yet."

There was another sound of broken glass. The Vulture either re-entered the building, or someone else came out. Morgan chose to believe that the flying old man went back inside, because tha meant Spider-Man was still alive. And still fighting.

And, soon, but only under his breath where he could barely hear himself, he began to join in with the crowd. _"Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can..."_

Five minutes passed. Maybe ten. Maybe a lifetime, it was impossible to tell. But suddenly the Vulture was seen, carrying Electro, and Mysterio was riding on a pillar of smoke. Was that it? Was that the sign that Spider-Man was dead, along with all the hostages. Morgan couldn't wait any longer. "Let's go people! Move, move, move! Deeley! Take your team and the other half left and pursue the Six!"

"Yes, sir!" Deeley said as he threw his SAFE helmet on. Morgan took his soldiers and rushed into the building, hoping they would not find bloody murder inside. Morgan wondered, if Spider-Man was dead, would it be okay to remove the mask? Would the world finally know? Or would it remain a secret, out of respet? But then he shook the thoughts from his mind. _No. Spider-Man is not dead. He can't be dead. He has not annoyed me enough to be dead. He still has a job to do. He has to keep fighting!_

And suddenly Morgan stopped as he heard the scream. It echoed, ringing...it was no ordinary scream. It was the scream of a dying man.


	32. Everyone

_Ten minutes earlier..._

Spider-Man's spider-sense warned him, but he did not run. He stood there, beside the body of Electro, and waited. And that is when his enemies entered: Mysterio, holding his cracked helmet, his face bruised. The Vulture, who looked worse than Spider-Man felt, and who was only standing with the support of Mysterio. _Still no sign of the Chameleon or Venom. Thank God_.

Spider-Man's chest fell at the thought of fighting them all over again. "Aw, come on, people! You can't seriously still be in the mood!"

"No," Mysterio managed. "No...you...you won."

_I won?_ The words were amazing. It was the first time they actually had meaning to Spider-Man._ I won._

"We just want...to gather our wounded--"

"--which is all of you," Spider-Man noted.

"--and fight another day," the Vulture gasped.

"You know there is no way I'm letting you guys go," Spider-Man said. "Not after what you did today. You're murderers. But if you come quietly I'll make sure they give you a DVD player in your cell."

"I...understand that," the Vulture said. "But...have you forgotten your friends, up in the city room?"

Mysterio nodded, an evil grin spreading across his face. "I left a little surprise for you up there."

Spider-Man felt all the strength go out of his knees. He knew that these monsters would leave and then come back, creating more havoc in his life. And he hated them. He hated all of them. He wanted to attack, showing them what an angry Spider-Man could do. But his friends were still up there. And his friends motivated him more. He turned his back on his enemies and cleared the distance to the elevators in two short hops. He entered the shaft through a crater Octavius had created and he began to crawl. _Please tell me I interpreted that the wrong way... _Spider-Man thought on his way up, his mind creating pictures of what he would find. Then he saw how simple his ideas had been.

It was a slaughterhouse.

Most of the people were in pieces, or too beaten to be identified, but some were oh too recognizable. Betty Brant lay sprawled out across her secretary desk, her face blue and hanging at an unatural angle. Ben Urich was leaning against a wall, held in place by a chair leg that had been jammed into his body. Billy Walters was hanging from a ceiling fan by the strap of his own camera. Arnold Sibert, Joy Mercado, Ben Ellis, Jake Conover, Auntie Esther, and a dozen others created a mound of corpses. Joe Robertson sat upright against a wall, his shirt bloody and his eyes staring. And, in the center of it all, upon a pedestal, stood the severed, accusing head of J. Jonah Jameson. His mouth, as the Six's last joke, was stuffed with cigars. His eyes were red from all the carnage, he seemed to be screaming, _See! See! I told you! I knew this would happen! This is what happens when you trust a Spider-Man!_

_We are all dead because of you._

"No..."

_This is your fault!_

_Your fault! _

"No..."

_Yours. _

_Murderer! _

Spider-Man shook his head in denial. He couldn't catch his breath. His eyes were tearing behind his mask. _No...no...not everybody. Not all of them. I won. I...I won... _And then he stumbled into the room and fell to his knees, screaming and wailing with grief.


	33. Midnight Meeting

It was one minute before midnight. Spider-Man stood on top of the Brooklyn Bridge, freezing, shivering, and numbing his feet. 

After what happened at the Bugle, Spider-Man headed for home, his head pounding with the traumatic image he had seen. Mary Jane, who tended to his wounds, ran him a long bubble bath, made him some hot cocoa and allowed him to sleep for a few hours, simply refused for him to continue his planned rendezvous that Morgan had asked him to go though with. But there he was, on top of the desired meeting spot where a SAFE aircar would bring him up to the Hellicarrier. Why? He didn't know. Duty, maybe? Responsibility (that word again), or maybe a need to keep himself sane. A need to function, and not lie around a relive that moment. Though he knew he'd need at least ten hours of sleep before he could function again, if he could function again at all.

Doug Deeley was the only passenger of the aircar. Spider-Man hopped in, completely silent. Deeley didn't say a word, and Spider-Man appreciate that. He did not want to be disturbed in his misery. His eyes still burning with barely-suppressed tears that had not gone away since he first saw the tableau of corpses.

"Midnight meetings…such a pain in the ass," Deeley said as the aircar pulled up to its station. Spider-Man didn't say anything. He was still, obviously, in shock. But he walked in and was told to wait outside the conference room as Morgan prepared. So Spider-Man sat, his eyes fixed on the floor. He could hear construction and feel its rumble below through the bench he was sitting on, and he remembered how he had nearly completely destroyed the engine room.

"Oh. Spider-Man. I didn't expect to see you here."

Spider-Man looked up and saw a young SAFE agent standing and looking down at him. He looked vaguely familiar. Not really in a talking mood, Spider-Man said, "yeah, well, here I am."

"I'm Troy Saberstein." He extended a hand.

Spider-Man reluctantly shook it. "Spider-Man."

"I know."

"Yeah, I guess you would." And then suddenly Spider-Man remembered why Troy Saberstein was employed at SAFE. "Oh no. No. I don't want a shrink right now, buddy."

"I'm not offering to be, Spider-Man. But I'm wondering if you are okay."

"Do I look okay?" the annoyed hero asked.

Troy sat beside him on the bench. "No, you don't. Spider-Man, I'm sorry for what you went through. You've had a hell of a day."

"No kidding."

"Can I get you something? Coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"No coffee? Gee, you really are upset."

Spider-Man wanted to tell the guy to shut the hell up, but he was just trying to help. Spider-Man faked a chuckle. "Listen, Troy…I appreciate your concern, but I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. It's one of the worst memories of my life."

"But everything is okay."

"It still doesn't feel its okay," Spider-Man sighed. He closed his eyes, and was forced back to that moment. He saw all the bodies…the bodies of all his friends. And as he took one more step closer to the scene of the massacre, he saw the truth behind the murders. He saw all the _Bugle_ employees, huddled together in one corner, their arms, legs and mouths bound with duct tape. The montage of bodies had been another Mysterio illusion. Another sick joke, playing with the lives of so many. Just another sick joke. They were alive.

Spider-Man leaned on a desk to stop himself from falling. He stared at the breathing people, and they looked at him; Jameson in front of the crowd. Spider-Man shook his head, holding it with his hand. He was crying. He didn't hide it, either. His body heaved and tears ran down his face.

When SAFE agents got there, Spider-Man was sitting on a desk. He hadn't unplugged the

projector which created the illusion, so the agents did so after the nasty surprise. Morgan slapped Spider-Man on the back. "You okay?"

Spider-Man didn't answer. His body was shaking. And he watched as the people he had seen lying dead only moments before walking, escorted out. J. Jonah Jameson and Spider-Man made eye contact. Jameson stopped before the hero, his face for once just blank. Spider-Man didn't say anything, and neither did he. But finally Jameson extended a hand, which Spider-Man couldn't even bring himself to shake.

"Yeah," Spider-Man said, shaking himself free of the flashback. "One hell of a day."

Deeley patted Spider-Man on the back from behind. "Morgan's ready for you."

"Super," Spider-Man said, standing. As he walked through the doors he looked at Saberstein. "You coming?"

"Me? Do you want me to?"

Spider-Man nodded at the counselor. "Yeah. Come on. And I'll take you up on that coffee offer."

"In front of Morgan?" Troy said, reminding Spider-Man of the Colonel's No-Caffeine-For-Spider-Man rule.

Spider-Man gave an evil smile from under his mask. "I just beat the Sinister Six. Do you really think Morgan can stop me?"


	34. The End

Spider-Man entered the conference room, hopped up on the long table in the center, and spun himself a little web to rest in directly above it. Troy Saberstein smiled, taking his seat beside Doug Deeley. Several others were already inside; Clyde Fury, Matt Gunderson, even Commissioner Wilson Ramos. Spider-Man acknowledged each with a nod. Colonel Morgan sat at the head of the table. He eyed Saberstein very coldly. "What are you doing here? I didn't order anyone to give you word of the meeting."

"I invited him. Cool guy. Plus I like his blue eyes. They sparkle--did you notice?"

Morgan shifted very uncomfortably in his seat at the sight of the counsellor, making Spider-Man grin. The idea of Morgan opening up to anyone was downright funny. He imagined the Colonel on a red couch, pouring his emotion out in tears. He laughed at the mental picture he created, but then started paying attention once he heard his name called.

"What's that?"

"I asked you how you were resting up. Are your wounds healing?"

Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah. But not as quickly as they'd be if I was home resting in bed."

"We'd all like to be there, Spider-Man--"

"My bed? Sorry, too crowded. But I appreciate the interest."

Morgan would have reprimanded Spider-Man for a try at humor, despite all the grins from the officials around the room, if it was not for the memory of all the lives Spider-Man had saved that day. "Hopefully the Six will take time to heal up too. You gave them a run for their money. And I speak for all us when I congratulate you."

"The death toll wasn't zero, Colonel."

"True. But it would have been a hell of a lot higher if you were not involved."

Spider-Man whizzed his head to face Commissioner Ramos, who was obviously still not happy to be there. "Hear that?" Spider-Man asked.

"You're just lucky there are no current warrants out for your arrest, Spider-Man." Ramos snapped.

"Oh yeah. That's nice. Insult the hero." Deeley said coldly.

Spider-Man yawned. "What time is it?"

"It's about a quarter past." Gunderson said.

"A quarter past _midnight?_ Man, even three cups of coffee can't keep me going for much longer."

_"Three cups?"_ Morgan asked.

Spider-Man flipped down from his little web-nest and on to the floor. "Listen, Morgan. I'm not one of your little agents--though they do have cool uniforms--so I really just want to go home and sleep a day or two."

Morgan nodded. "Understood. Deeley will escort you to the launch pad."

Spider-Man nodded and went to leave through the automatic doors when the Colonel said, "Oh, and, Spider-Man?"

"Yeah?"

"Good work out there today."

Spider-Man gave him a thumbs-up. "You too."

Ramos slid low in his chair. "Spider-Man is nothing but a glory hogging, no-for-good-MMPH!" his words were cut off as Spider-Man zipped a wad of webbing over the Commissioner's mouth. "Ramos," Spider-Man said. "Just shut it already."

**_A/N: Thank you for keeping up with this story! I know it's one of my favorites so far. Thanks so much for sticking with it to the end!_**

****

_I do not own any of the featured Marvel Characters or the book by Adam-Troy Castro. I understand that this is pretty much a knockoff of the book, but I loved it so much that I wanted to write it. I tried to put my own little twists and make it a version of my own. I do not own anything, and this fanfic is not even based on, but pretty much IS the book. I am not claiming it as my own or as my own idea. I apologize, as I recieved a review calling it 'plagarism'. I would never intentionally do such a thing, and I write for my own enjoyment and I enjoyed the book. I am sorry for the mix-up, I did not even realize that it may have been plagarism. I am just a person who likes to write about Spider-Man. I've loved the novel and I wanted to write it out sorta-kinda in my own way, figuring fanfiction would be the place to do it._


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